Shenac's Work at Home

By Margaret Murray Robertson________________________________________________________________________

________________________________________________________________________SHENAC'S WORK AT HOME

BY MARGARET MURRAY ROBERTSON

CHAPTER ONE. 

A long time ago, something very sad happened in one of the districts ofScotland. I cannot tell you how it all came about, but a great manypeople were obliged to leave their homes where they and theirforefathers had lived for many generations. A few scattered themselvesthrough other parts of the country; a few went to the great towns toseek for a livelihood; but by far the greater number made up their mindsto leave for ever the land of their birth, and rose in the new, strangeworld beyond the sea a home for themselves and their children. 

I could never make you understand what a sorrowful time that was tothese poor people, or how much they suffered in going away. For some ofthe old left children behind them, and some of the young left theirparents, or brothers, or sisters; and all left the homes where they hadlived through happy years, the kirks where they had worshipped Godtogether, and the kirkyards where lay the dust of the dear ones they hadlost. 

And, besides all this, they knew little of the land to which they weregoing, and between them and it lay the great ocean, with all itsterrors. For then they did not count by days, as we do now, the timethat it took to cross the sea, but by weeks, or even by months; and manya timid mother shrank from the thought of all her children might have tosuffer ere the sea was passed. Even more than the knowledge of the manydifficulties and discouragements which might await them beyond it, didthe thought of the dangers of the sea appal them. And to all theirother sorrows was added the bitter pain of saying farewell for ever andfor ever to Scotland, their native land. It is true that not among allher hills or valleys, or in all her great and prosperous towns, could befound room for them and theirs; it is true that a home in the belovedland was denied them: but it was their native land all the same, andeyes that had refused to weep at the last look of dear faces leftbehind, grew dim with tears as the broken outline of Scotland's hillsfaded away in the darkness. 

But out of very sorrowful events God oftentimes causes much happiness tospring; and it was so to these poor people in their banishment. Intothe wide Canadian forests they came, and soon the wilderness and thesolitary place were glad for them; soon the wild woods were made torejoice with the sound of joyful voices ringing out from many a happythough humble home. And though there were those among the aged or thediscontented who never ceased to pine for the heather hills of the oldland, the young grew up strong and content, troubled by no fear that, for many and many a year to come, the place would become too strait forthem or for their children. 

They did not speak English these people, but a language called Gaelic, not at all agreeable to English ears, but very dear to the heart of theScottish Highlander. It is passing somewhat out of use now; but even atthis day I have heard of old people who will go many miles to hear asermon preached in that language--the precious gospel itself seemingclearer and richer and more full of comfort coming to them in thelanguage which they learned at their mother's knee. 

"It was surely the language first spoken on earth, before the beguilingserpent came to our mother, " once said an old man to me; "and maybeafterwards too, till the foolish men on the plain of Shinar broughtBabel on the earth. And indeed it may be the language spoken in heavento-day, so sweet and grand and fit for the expression of high and holythoughts is it. "

It is passing out of use now, however, even among the Highlandersthemselves. Gaelic is the household language still, where the fatherand mother are old, or where the grand-parents live with the risinggeneration; but English is the language of business, of the newspapers, and of all the new books that find their way among the people. It isfast becoming the language in which public worship is conducted too. There are very few books in the Gaelic. There are the Bible and theCatechism, and some poems which they who understand them say are verygrand and beautiful; and there are a few translations of religiousbooks, such as "The Pilgrim's Progress, " and some of the works of suchwriters as Flavel and Baxter. But though there are not many, they areof a kind which, read often and earnestly, cannot fail to bring wisdom;and a grave and thoughtful people were they who made their homes in thiswilderness. 

Among those who were most earnest in overcoming the difficulties whichat every step meet the settler in a new country were two brothers, Angusand Evan MacIvor. Their farms lay next to each other. They werefortunate in securing good land, and they were moderately successful inclearing and cultivating it. They lived to a good old age, and theyoungest son of each succeeded him in the possession of the land. It isabout the families of these two sons that my story is to be told. 

The two cousins bore the same name, Angus MacIvor; but they were not atall alike either in appearance or character. The one was fair, withlight hair and bright blue eyes; and because of this he was called AngusBhan, or Angus the fair, to distinguish him from his cousin, who wasvery dark. He had a frank, open face and kind manner; and if anyone inthe neighbourhood wanted a favour done, his first thought was sure to beof Angus Bhan. 

His cousin Angus Dhu, or Angus the black, had a good reputation amongpeople in general. He was honest and upright in his dealings, his wordcould be relied on; but his temper was uncertain, and his neighbourscalled him "close, " and few of them would have thought of looking toAngus Dhu when they wanted a helping hand. 

When these two began life they were very much in the same circumstances. Their farms were alike as to the quality of the soil and as to thenumber of acres cleared and under cultivation. They were both free fromdebt, both strong men accustomed to farm-work, and both, in the opinionof their neighbours, had a fair chance of becoming rich, according tothe idea of wealth entertained by these people. 

But when twenty years had passed away the affairs of the two men stoodvery differently. Angus Dhu had more than realised the expectations ofhis neighbours. He was rich--richer even than his neighbours supposed. More than half of his farm of two hundred acres was cleared and undercultivation. It was well stocked, well tilled, and very productive. Near the site of the log-house built by his father stood a comfortablefarm-house of stone. All this his neighbours saw, and called him aprosperous man; and now and then they speculated together as to theamount of bank-stock to which he might justly lay claim. 

The world had not gone so well with Angus Bhan. There was not so muchland under cultivation, neither was what he had so well cultivated ashis cousin's. He had built a new house too, but he had been unfortunateas to the time chosen to build. Materials were dear, and a bad harvestor two put him sadly back in the world. He was obliged to run intodebt, and the interest of the money borrowed from his cousin was anadditional burden. He was not successful in the rearing of stock, andsome heavy losses of cattle fell on him. Worse than all, his healthbegan to fail, for then his courage failed too; and when there came tothat part of the country rumours of wonderful discoveries of theprecious metals in the western parts of the continent, he only faintlywithstood the entreaties of his eldest son that he might be permitted togo away and search for gold among the mountains of California. Hisgoing away nearly broke his mother's heart; and some among theneighbours said it would have been far wiser for young Allister to stayat home and help his father to plough and sow and gather in the harvest, than to go so far and suffer so much for gold, which might be slow incoming, and which must be quick in going should sickness overtake him inthe land of strangers. But the young are always hopeful, and Allisterwas sure of success; and he comforted his mother by telling her that intwo or three years at most he could earn money enough to pay hisfather's debt to Angus Dhu, and then he would come home again, and theywould all live happily together as before. So Allister went away, andleft a sorrowful household behind. 

And there was another sorrowful household in Glengarry about that time. There was only _sorrow_ in the hearts of Angus Bhan and his wife whentheir first-born son went away; for he went with their consent, andcarried their blessing with him. But there were sorrow and bitter angerin the heart of Angus Dhu when he came to know that his son had alsogone away. He was not a man of many words, and he said little to anyoneabout his son; but in his heart he believed that he had been beguiledaway by the son of Angus Bhan, and bitter resentment rose within him atthe thought. 

A few months passed away, and there came a letter from Allister, writtensoon after his arrival in California. His cousin Evan Dhu was with him. They had done nothing to earn money as yet, but they were in highspirits, and full of hope that they would do great things. This lettergave much comfort to them all; but it was a long time before they heardfrom the wanderers again. 

In the meantime the affairs of Angus Bhan did not grow more prosperous. It became more and more difficult for him to pay the interest of hisdebt; and though his cousin seldom alluded in words to his obligation, he knew quite well that he would not abate a penny either of principalor interest when the time of payment came. 

A year passed away. No more letters came from Allister, and hisfather's courage grew fainter and fainter. There seemed little hope ofhis ever being able to pay his debt; and so, when Angus Dhu asked him tosell a part of his farm to him, he went home with a heavy heart toconsult his wife about it. They agreed that something must be done atonce; and so it was arranged that if Allister was not heard from, or ifsome other means of paying at least the interest did not offer beforethe spring, the hundred acres of their land that lay next to the farm ofAngus Dhu should be given up to him. It was sad enough to have to dothis; but Angus Bhan said to his wife, --

"If anything were to happen to me, you and the children would be farbetter with half the land free from debt, than with all burdened as itmust be till Allister comes home. "

They did not say much to each other, but their hearts were very sore--his, that he must give up the land left to him by his father; hers, forhis sake, and also for the sake of her first-born son, a wanderer faraway. 

That autumn, when the harvest was over, the second son, Lewis, set offwith some young men of the place to join a company of lumberers, whowere, as is their custom, to pass the winter in the woods. It was atime of great prosperity with lumber-merchants then, and good wagescould be earned in their service. There was nothing to be done at homein the winter which his father, with the help of the younger children, could not do; and Lewis, who was eighteen, was eager to earn money tohelp at home, and eager also to enter into the new and, as he thought, the merry life in the woods. So Lewis went away, and there were left athome Hamish and Shenac, who were twins, Dan, Hugh, Colin, and littleFlora, the youngest and dearest of them all. The anxieties of theparents were not suffered to sadden the lives of the children, and thelittle MacIvors Bhan were as merry young people as one could wish tosee. 

Though they were not so prosperous, they were a far happier householdthan the MacIvors Dhu. There was the same number of children in eachfamily; but Angus Dhu's children were most of them older than theircousins, and while Angus Bhan had six sons and two daughters, Angus Dhuhad six daughters and two sons. "His cousin should have been a farricher man than he, with so many sons, " Angus Dhu used to say grimly. But three of the boys of Angus Bhan were only children still, and one ofthem was a cripple. And as for the daughters of Angus Dhu, they hadbeen as good as sons even for the farm-work, labouring in the fields, asis the custom for young women in this part of the country, asindustriously and as efficiently as men--far more so, indeed, than theirown brother Evan did; for he was often impatient of the closeness withwhich his father kept them all at work, and it was this, quite as muchas his love of adventure and his wish to see the world, that made him goaway at last. The two eldest daughters were married, and the third wasliving away from home; so, after Evan left, there were four in theirfather's house--three girls and Dan, the youngest of the family, who wastwelve years of age. The children of these two families had always beengood friends. Indeed, the younger children of Angus Dhu had morepleasure in the house of their father's cousin than in their own home;and many a winter evening they were in the habit of passing there. 

They had a very quiet winter after Lewis went away. There was lessvisiting and going about in the moonlight evenings than ever before; forthe boys were all too young to go with them except Hamish, and he was acripple, and not so well as usual this winter, and though the girls werequite able to take care of themselves, they had little pleasure in goingalone. So Angus Dhu's girls used to take their knitting and theirsewing to the other house, and they all amused themselves in theinnocent, old-fashioned ways of that time. 

Shenac seldom went to visit her cousins; for, besides the fact that herfather's house was the pleasantest meeting-place, her brother Hamishcould not often go out at night, and she would rarely consent to leavehim; and no one added so much to the general amusement as Hamish. Hewas very skilful at making puzzles and at all sorts of arithmeticalquestions, and not one of them could sing so many songs or tell so manystories as he. He was very merry and sweet-tempered too. His being acripple, and different from all the rest, had not made him peevish anddifficult to deal with as such misfortunes are so apt to do, and therewas no one in all the world that Shenac loved so well as hertwin-brother Hamish. 

I suppose I ought to describe Shenac more particularly, as my story isto be more about her than any of the other MacIvors. A good many yearsafter the time of which I am now writing; I heard Shenac MacIvor--or, asEnglish lips made it, Jane MacIvor--spoken of as a very beautiful woman(the Gaelic spelling is Sinec); but at this time I do not think it evercame into the mind of anybody to think whether she was beautiful or not. She had one attribute of beauty--perfect health. There never bloomedamong the Scottish hills, which her father and mother only justremembered, roses and lilies more fresh and fair than bloomed on thehappy face of Shenac, and her curls of golden brown were the admirationand envy of her dark haired cousins. They called little Flora a beauty, and a rose, and a precious darling; but of Shenac they said she wasbright and good, and very helpful for a girl of her age; and her brotherHamish thought her the best girl in the world--indeed, quite without afault, which was very far from being true. 

For Shenac had plenty of faults. She had a quick, hot temper, which, when roused, caused her to say many things which she ought not to havesaid. Hamish thought all those sharp words were quite atoned for byShenac's quick and earnest repentance, but there is a sense in which itis true that hasty and unkind words can never be unsaid. 

Shenac liked her own way too in all things. This did not often maketrouble, however; for she had learned her mother's household ways, and, indeed, had wonderful taste and talent for these matters. Being theonly daughter of the house, except little Flora, and her mother notbeing very strong, Shenac had less to do in the fields than her cousins, and was busy and happy in the house, except in harvest-time, when eventhe little lads, her brothers, were expected to do their part there. 

Hamish and Shenac were very much alike, as twins very often are--thatis, they were both fair, and had the same-coloured hair and eyes. But, while Shenac was rosy and strong, the very picture of health, herbrother was thin and pale, and often of late there had been a look ofpain on his face that it made his mother's heart ache to see. They wereall in all to each other--Shenac and Hamish. They missed Lewis less onthis account, and they knew very little of the troubles that so oftenmade their father and mother anxious; and the first months of winterpassed happily over them after Lewis went away. 

Christmas passed, and the new year came in. A few more pleasant weekswent by, and then there came terrible tidings to the house of AngusBhan. Far away, on one of the rapids of the Grand River, a boat hadbeen overturned. Three young men had been lost under the ice. The bodyof one had been recovered: it was the body of Lewis MacIvor. 

"We should be thankful that we can at least bring him home, " said AngusBhan to his wife, while she made preparations for his sad journey. Buthe said it with very pale, trembling lips, and his wife struggled torestrain the great burst of weeping that threatened to have way, that hemight have the comfort of thinking that she was bearing her troublewell. But when she was left alone all these sad days of waiting, shewas ready to say, in the bitterness of her heart, that there was nosorrow like her sorrow. One son was a wanderer, another was dead, andon the face of the dearly-beloved Hamish was settling the look ofhabitual suffering, so painful to see. Her cup of sorrow was full tothe brim, she declared, but she knew not what she said. 

For, when a few days had passed, there were brought home for burial twodead bodies instead of one. Her husband was no more. He had nearlyaccomplished his sorrowful errand, when death overtook him. He hadcomplained to the friend who was with him of feeling cold, and had leftthe sleigh to walk a mile or two to warm himself. They waited in vainfor him at the next resting-place, and when they went back to look forhim they found him lying with his face in the snow, quite dead. He hadnot died from cold, the doctor said, but from heart-disease, andprobably without suffering; and this comfort the bereaved widow tried totake to herself. 

But her cup of sorrow was not full yet. The very night before theburial was to be, the house caught fire and burned to the ground. Itwas with difficulty that the few neighbours who gathered in time to helpcould save the closed coffins from the flames; and it seemed a smallmatter, at the time, that nearly all their household stuff was lost. 

The mother's cup _did_ seem full now. I do not think that the coming ofany trouble, however great, could at this time have added to her grief. She had striven to be submissive under the repeated strokes that hadfallen upon her, but the horrors of that night were too much for her, weakened as she was by sorrow. For a time she was quite distracted, heeding little the kind efforts of her neighbours to alleviate herdistress and the distress of her children. All that kind hearts andwilling hands could do was done for them. The log house which theirgrandfather had built still stood. It was repaired, and filled withgifts from every family in the neighbourhood, and the widow and herchildren found refuge there. 

"Oh, what a sad beginning for a story!" I think some of my youngreaders may say, in tones of disappointment. It is indeed a sadbeginning, but every sorrowful word is true. Every day there are justsuch sorrowful events happening in the world, though it is not oftenthat trouble falls so heavily at once on any household. I might haveleft all this out of my story; but then no one could have understood sowell the nature of the work that fell to Shenac, or have known thedifficulties she had to overcome in trying to do it well. 

CHAPTER TWO. 

It was May-day. Oftentimes in the northern country this month isushered in by drizzling rain, or even by the falling snow; but this yearbrought a May-day worthy of the name--clear, mild, and balmy. There wasnot a cloud in all the sky, nor wind enough to stir the catkins hangingclose over the waters of the creek. The last days of April had beenwarm and bright, and there was a tender green on the low-lying fields, and on the poplars that fringed the wood; and the boughs of themaple-trees in the sugar-bush looked purple and brown over the greatgrey trunks. 

There is never a May-day when some flowers cannot be found beneath thesetrees, and in the warm hollows along the margin of the creek; but thisyear there were more than a few. Besides the pale little "springflower, " which hardly waits for the snow to go away before it showsitself, there were daffodils and anemones and wake-robins, and from thelapful which little Flora MacIvor sat holding on the bank close besidethe great willow peeped forth violets, blue and white. There werelady-slippers too somewhere not far away, Flora was sure, if only Dan orHughie could be persuaded to look for them a little farther down thecreek, in the damp ground under the cedars, where she had promised hermother she would not go. 

But the lads had something else to do than to look for flowers forFlora. Down the creek, which was broad and full because of the meltingsnow, a number of great cedar chips were floating. Past thefoot-bridge, and past the eddy by the great rock, and over the pool intowhich the creek widened by the old ashery, the mimic fleet sailedsafely; while the lads shouted and ran, and strove by the help of longsticks to pilot them all into the little cove by the willow where littleFlora was sitting, till even the flower-loving little maiden forgot hertreasures, and grew excited like the rest. 

You would never have thought, looking at those bright faces, that heavytrouble had been in their home for months. Listening to their merry, voices, you would never have imagined that there were, in some heartsthat loved them, grave doubts whether for the future they were to have ahome together or no. But so it was. 

Higher up the bank, where the old ashery used to stand, Shenac andHamish were sitting. The triumphant shout with which the last andlargest of the boats was landed, startled them out of the silence inwhich they had been musing, and the girl said sadly, --

"Children forget so soon!"

Hamish made no answer. He was not watching the little sailors. Hisface was quite turned away from them, and looked gloomy and troubledenough. The girl watched a moment anxiously; and then turning her eyeswhere his had been for some time resting, she cried passionately, --

"I wish a fire would break out and burn it to ashes, every stick!"

"What would be the good of that? Angus Dhu would put it all up again, "said Hamish bitterly. "He might save himself the trouble, though. Hemeans to have _all_ the land shortly. "

They were watching the progress of a fence of great cedar rails whichthree or four men were building; and no wonder they watched it withvexation, for it went from line to line, dividing in two parts the landthat had belonged to their father. He was dead now, and their brotherAllister was far away, they knew not where, in search of gold; and therewas no one now, besides themselves, except their mother, and the littleones who were so thoughtless, making merry with the great cedar chipswhich Angus Dhu sent, floating down the stream. 

"Nobody but you and me to do anything; and what can _we_ do?" continuedthe lad with a desponding gesture. "And my mother scarcely seems tocare to try. "

"Whisht, Hamish dear; there's no wonder, " said Shenac in a low voice. "But about the land. Angus Dhu can never get it surely!"

"He has gotten the half of it already. Who is to hinder his getting therest?" said Hamish. "And he might as well have it. What can _we_ dowith it?"

"Was it wrong for him to take it, do you think, Hamish?" asked Shenacgravely. 

"Not in law. Angus Dhu would never do what is unlawful. But he washard on my father, and he says--"

Hamish paused to ask himself whether it was worth while to vex Shenacwith the unkind words of Angus Dhu. But Shenac would not be denied theknowledge. 

"What was it, Hamish? He would never dare to say a light word of ourfather. Did you not then and there show him the door?"

Shenac's blue eye flashed. She was quite capable of doing that and moreto vindicate her father's memory. 

"Whisht, Shenac, " said Hamish. "Angus Dhu loved my father, though hewas hard on him. There were tears in his eyes when he spoke to mymother about him. But he says that the half of the land is justly his, for money that my father borrowed at different times, and for theinterest which he could not pay. And he wants to buy the other half;for he says we can never carry on the farm, and I am afraid he isright, " added the lad despondingly. 

"And what would become of us all?" asked Shenac, her cheeks growing palein the pain and surprise of the moment. 

"He would put out the money in such a way that it would bring an incometo my mother, who could live here still, with Colin and little Flora. He says he will take Dan to keep till he is of age, and Elder McMillanwill take Hugh. You are old enough to do for yourself, he says; and asfor me--" He turned away, so that his sister might not see the workingof his face. But Shenac was thinking of something else, and did notnotice him. 

"But, Hamish, we have written to Allister, and he will be sure to comehome when he hears what has happened to us. "

Hamish shook his head. 

"Black Angus says Allister will never come back. He says he was anunsettled lad before he went away. And, Shenac, he says our Allisterbeguiled Evan, or he never would have left home. He looked black whenhe said it. He was angry. "

Shenac's eyes blazed again. 

"Our Allister unsettled--he that went away for our father's sake, andfor us all! Our Allister to beguile Evan, that wild lad! And you satand heard him say it, Hamish!"

"What else could I do?" said Hamish bitterly. 

"And my mother?" said Shenac. 

"She could only cry, and say that Allister had always been a good son toher and to my father, and a dear brother to us all. "

There was a long pause. Shenac never removed her eyes from the men, whowere gradually drawing nearer and nearer, as one after another of thegreat cedar rails was laid on the foundation of logs and stones alreadyprepared for them along the field; and anger gathered in her heart andshowed itself in her face as she gazed. Hamish had turned quite awayfrom the fence and from his sister, towards the creek where his brotherswere still shouting at their play. But he was not thinking of hisbrothers; he did not see them, indeed. He made an effort to keep backthe tears, which, in spite of all he could do, would flow. If Shenachad spoken to him, they must have gushed out; but he had time to forcethem back before Shenac turned away with an angry gesture. 

"It's of no use, Shenac, " he said then. "There's reason in what AngusDhu says. We will have to give up the farm. "

"Hamish, that shall never be done!" said Shenac. "It would break mymother's heart. "

"It seems broken already, " said Hamish hoarsely. "And it is easy to saythe land must be kept. But what can we do with it? Who is to work it?"

"You and I and the little lads, " cried Shenac. "There is no fear. Godwill help us, " she added reverently--"the widow and orphan's God. Hamish, don't you mind?"

Hamish had no voice with which to answer for a moment; but in a littlewhile he said with some difficulty, --

"It is easy for _you_ to say what you will do, Shenac--you who arestrong and well; but look at me! I am not getting stronger, as wealways hoped. What could I do at the plough? I had better go to sometown, as Angus Dhu advised my mother, and learn to make shoes. "

"Oh, but he's fine at making plans, that Angus Dhu, " said Shenacscornfully. "But we'll need to tell him that we're for none of hishelp. Hamish, " she added, suddenly stooping down over him, "do youthink any plan made to separate you and me will prosper? I think I seeblack Angus coming between you and me with his plans. "

Her words and her caress were quite too much for Hamish, and hesurprised himself and her too by a sudden burst of tears. The sight ofthis banished Shenac's softness in a moment. She raised herself fromher stooping posture with an angry cry. Separated from the rest of thefence-makers, and approaching the knoll where the brother and sisterhad, been sitting, were two men. One was Angus Dhu, and the other washis friend, and a relation of his wife, Elder McMillan. He was a goodman, people said, but one who liked to move on with the current, --onewho went for peace at all risks, and so forgot sometimes that purity wasto be set before even peace. There was nothing in Shenac's knowledge ofthe man to make her afraid of him, and she took three steps towardsthem, and said, --

"Angus Dhu, do you mind what the Bible says of them that oppress thewidow and the fatherless? Have you forgotten the verse that says, `Remove not the ancient land-mark'?"

She stopped, as if waiting for an answer. The two men stood still fromsheer surprise, and looked at her. Shenac continued:--

"And do you mind what's said of them that add field to field? and--"

"Shenac, my woman, " said the elder at last, "it's no becoming in you tospeak in that kind of a way to one older than your father was. I doubtyou're forgetting--"

But Shenac put his words aside with a gesture of indifference. 

"And to speak false words of our Allister to his mother in her troubleas though he had led your wild lad Evan astray. You little know whatour Allister saved him from more than once. But that is not for to-day. I have this to, say to you, Angus Dhu: you must be content with thehalf you have gotten; for not another acre of my father's land shallever be yours, though all the elders in Glengarry stood at your back. --Iwill not whisht, Hamish. He is to know that he is not to meddle betweenmy mother and me. It's not or the like of Angus Dhu to say that mymother's children shall be taken from her in her trouble. Our affairsmay be bad enough, but they'll be none the better for your meddling inthem. "

"Shenac, " entreated Hamish, "you'll be sorry for speaking that way toour father's cousin. "

"Our father's oppressor rather, " she insisted scornfully. But she hadsaid her say; and, besides, the lads and little Flora had heard theirvoices, and were drawing near. 

"Children, " said Shenac, "you are to come home. And mind, you are notto set foot on this bank again without our mother's leave. It's AngusDhu's land now, he says, and not ours. "

The creek--that part of it near which the willows grew, and where theold ashery used to stand--had been their daily resort every summer-dayall their lives; and they all looked at her with astonishment anddismay, but none of them spoke. 

"Come home to our mother, boys. --Flora, come home. " And Shenac liftedher little sister over the foundation of great stones, and beckoned tothe boys to follow her. 

"Come, Hamish, it's time we were home. " And Hamish obeyed her assilently as the rest had done. 

"Hamish, " said the elder, "speak here, man. You have some sense, andtales such as yon wild girl is like to tell may do your father's cousinmuch harm. "

In his heart Hamish knew Shenac to be foolish and wrong to speak as shehad done, but he was true to her all the same, and would hold no parleywith the enemy. So he gave no heed to the elder's words, but followedthe rest through the field. Shenac's steps grew slower as theyapproached the house. 

"Hamish, " she said a little shamefacedly, "there will be no use vexingour mother by telling her all this. "

"That's true enough, " said Hamish. 

"But mind, Hamish, I'm not sorry that I said it. I have aye meant tosay something to Angus Dhu about the land; though I daresay it wouldhave been as well to say it when that clattering body, Elder McMillan, was out of hearing. "

"And John and Rory McLean, " murmured Hamish. 

"Hamish, man, they never could have heard. Not that I am caring, "continued Shenac. "It's true that Angus Dhu has gotten half ourfather's land, and that he is seeking the other half; but _that_ he'llnever get--_never_!" And she flashed an angry glance towards the spotwhere the men were still standing. 

Hamish knew it was always best to leave his sister till her angercooled, so he said nothing in reply. He grieved for the loss of theland as much as Shenac did, but he did not resent it like her. Thoughhe believed that Angus Dhu had been hard on his father, he did notbelieve that he had dealt unjustly by him. And he was right. Even intaking half the land he had taken only what he believed to be his due, and in wishing to possess himself, of the rest, he believed he was aboutto do a kindness to the widow and children of his dead cousin. Hebelieved they could never get their living from the land. They mustgive it up, he thought; and it was far better that it should fall intohis hands than into the hands of a stranger. Had his cousin lived, hewould never have wished for the land; and he said to himself that hewould do much for them all, and that the widow and orphans should neversuffer while he could befriend them. 

At the same time, he could not deny that he would be glad to get theland. When Evan came home, it might keep the lad near him to have thisfarm ready for him. He had allowed himself to think a great deal aboutthis of late. He would not confess to himself that any part of theuncomfortable feelings that Shenac's outbreak had stirred within himsprang from disappointment. But he was mistaken. For when the girlplanted her foot on the other side of the new fence, and looked back athim defiantly, he felt that she would make good her word, and hold theland, at least, until Allister came home. 

He did not care much what the neighbours might say about him; but hetold Elder McMillan that he cared, and that doubtless yon wild girlwould have plenty: to say about things she did not understand, and thatshe would get ill-minded folks enough to hearken to her and to urge heron. And he tried to make himself believe that it was this, and nothingelse, that vexed him in the matter. 

"And what's to be done?" asked the elder uneasily, as Shenac and therest disappeared. 

"Done!" repeated his friend angrily. "_I_ shall do nought. If they cango on by themselves, all the better. I shall be well pleased. Whyshould I seek to have the land?"

"Why, indeed?" said the elder. 

"I shall neither make nor meddle in their affairs, till I am asked to doit, " continued Angus Dhu; but the look on his face said, as plainly aswords could have done, "and it will not be very long before that willhappen. "

But he made a mistake, as even wise men will sometimes do. 

CHAPTER THREE. 

I am glad to say that Shenac did not let the sun go down on her wrath. Indeed, long before sunset she was heartily ashamed of her outbreaktowards Angus Dhu, and acknowledged as much to Hamish. Not that shebelieved he had acted justly and kindly in his past dealings with herfather; nor was she satisfied that the future interests of the familywould be safe in his hands. Even while acknowledging how wrong andfoolish she had been in speaking as she had done, she declared to Hamishthat Angus Dhu should neither "make nor meddle" in their affairs. Theymust cling together, and do the best they could, till Allister shouldcome home, whatever Angus Dhu might say. 

That her mother might yield to persuasion on this point, she thoughtpossible; for the widow had lost courage, and saw only the darker sideof their affairs. But Shenac stoutly declared that day to Hamish thatno one should be suffered to persuade her mother to the breaking of herheart. No one had a right to interfere in their affairs further thanshould be welcome to them all. For her part, she was not afraid ofAngus Dhu, nor of Elder McMillan, nor of any one else, when it came tothe question of breaking up their home and sending them, one here andanother there, away from the mother. 

Shenac felt very strong and brave as she said all this to Hamish; andyet when, as it was growing dark that night, she saw Elder McMillanopening their gate, her first impulse was to run away. She did not, however, but said to herself, "Now is the time to stand by my mother, and help her to resist the elder's efforts to get little Hugh away fromus. " Besides, she could not go away without being seen, and it wouldlook cowardly; so she placed herself behind the little wheel which themother had left for a moment, and when the elder came in she was as busyand as quiet as (in his frequently-expressed opinion) it was the boundenduty of all young women to be. 

Now, there was nothing in the whole round of Shenac's duties sodistasteful to her as spinning on the little wheel. The constant andunexciting employment for hands and mind that spinning afforded, andperhaps the pleasant monotony of the familiar humming of the wheel, always exerted a soothing influence on the mother; and one of the firstthings that had given them hope of her recovery after the shock of theburning of the house was her voluntary bringing out of the wheel. Butit was very different with Shenac. The strength and energy soinvaluable to her in her household work or her work in the fields wereof no avail to her here. To sit following patiently and constantly thegradual forming and twisting of the thread, did not suit her as it didher mother; and watchful and excited as she was that night, she couldhardly sit quiet while the elder went through his usual salutations toher mother and the rest. 

He was in no haste to make known his errand, if he had one, and he wasin no haste to go. He spoke in slow, unwilling sentences, as he haddone many times before, of the mysterious dealings of Providence withthe family, making long pauses between. And through his talk and hissilence the widow sat shedding a few quiet tears in the dark, and nowand then uttering a word of reply. 

What was the good of it all Shenac would have liked to shake him, and tobid him "say his say" and go; but the elder seemed to have no say, atleast concerning Hugh. He went slowly through his accustomed round ofcondolence with her mother and advice to the boys and Shenac, and, as herose to go, added something about a bee which some of the neighbours hadbeen planning to help the widow with the ploughing and sowing of herland, and then he went away. 

"Some of the neighbours, " repeated Shenac in a whisper to her brother. "That's the elder's way of heaping coals on my head--good man!"

"What do you suppose the elder cares about a girl like you, or Angus Dhueither?" asked Hamish with a shrug. 

Shenac laughed, but had no time to answer. 

"I was afraid it might be about wee Hughie that the elder wanted tospeak, " said the mother with a sigh of relief as she came in from thedoor, where she had bidden the visitor good-night. 

"And what about Hughie?" asked Shenac, resuming her spinning. She knewvery well what about him; but her mother had not told her, and this wasas good a way as any to begin about their plans for the summer. 

Instead of answering her question, the mother said, after a moment'ssilence, --

"He's a good man, Elder McMillan. "

"Oh yes, I daresay he's a good man, " said Shenac with some sharpness;"but that's no reason why he should want to have our Hughie. "

The little boys were all in bed by this time, and Hamish and Shenac werealone with their mother. After a little impatient twitching of herthread, Shenac put aside her wheel, swept up the hearth, and moved aboutputting things in order in the room, and then she came and sat downbeside her mother. She did not speak, however; she did not know what tosay. Any allusion to the summer's work was almost surer to make hermother shed tears, and Shenac could not bear to grieve her. She dartedan impatient glance at Hamish, who seemed to have no intention ofhelping her to-night. He was sitting with his face upon his hands, justas he had been sitting through the elder's visit, and Shenac could notcatch his eye. It seemed wrong to risk the bringing on of a wakeful, moaning, miserable night to her mother; and she was thinking she wouldsay no more till morning, when her mother spoke again. 

"Yes, Elder McMillan is a good man. I would not be afraid for Hugh, andhe would be near at hand. "

"Yes, " said Shenac, making an effort to speak quietly, "if Hugh must go, he might as well go to Elder McMillan's as anywhere--" She stopped. 

"And Dan needs a firm hand, they say, " continued the mother, her voicebreaking a little; "but I'm afraid for him. Angus Dhu is a stern man, and Dan has been used to a hand gentle as well as firm. But he wouldnot be far away. "

Shenac broke out impatiently, --

"Angus Dhu's hand was not firm enough to keep his own son at home, andhe could never guide our Dan. Mother, never heed them that tell you anyill of Dan. Has he ever disobeyed you once since--since then?"Shenac's voice failed a little, then she went on again, "Why should Dango away, or any of us? Why can't we bide all together, and do the bestwe can, till Allister comes home?"

"But that must be a long time yet, if he ever comes, " said the mother, sighing. 

"Yes, it may be long, " said Shenac eagerly. "Of course it cannot be forthe spring work, and maybe not for the harvest, but he's sure to come, mother; and think of Allister coming and finding no home! Yes, I knowyou are to bide here; but the land would be gone, and it would be nohome long to Allister or any of us without the land. Angus Dhu shouldbe content with what he's got, " continued Shenac bitterly. "Allisterwill never be content to let my father's land go out of our hands; andAngus Dhu promised my father to give it up to Allister. Mother, we mustdo nothing till Allister comes home. --Hamish, why don't you tell mymother to wait till Allister comes home?"

"Till Allister comes home! When Allister comes home!" This had beenthe burden of all Shenac's comforting to her mother, even when she couldtake no comfort from it herself. For a year seemed a long time toShenac; but three months of the year had passed already, and surely, surely Allister would come. 

Hamish raised his face as Shenac appealed to him, but it was anythingbut a hopeful face, and Shenac was glad that her mother was looking theother way. 

"But what are we to do in the meantime?" he asked, and his voice was aslittle hopeful as his face. For a moment Shenac was indignant at herbrother. It would need the courage of both to make the future lookotherwise than dark to their mother, and she thought Hamish was going tofail her. She was growing very eager; but she knew that the quick, hotwords that might carry Hamish with her would have no force with hermother, and she put a strong restraint on herself, and said quietly, --

"We can manage through the summer, mother. The wheat was sown in thefall, you know, and the elder said we were to have a bee next week forthe oats, and we can do the rest ourselves--Hamish and Dan and I--tillAllister comes home. "

"It would be a hard fight for you all, " said the mother despondingly. 

"You should say Dan and you and little Hugh and Colin, " said Hamishbitterly. "They could help far more than I can, unless I am much betterthan I am now. " And then he dropped his head on his hands again. 

Shenac rose suddenly and placed herself between him and her mother, andthen she said quietly, --

"And, mother, the elder thinks we can do it, or he wouldn't have spokenabout the bee. Nobody can think it right that Angus Dhu should take ourfather's land from us; and the elder said nothing about Hugh; and Danwould never bide with Angus Dhu and work our father's land for him. Never! never! Mother, we must try what we can do till Allister comeshome. "

There was not much said after that. There was no decision in words asto their plans, but Shenac knew they were to make a trial of thesummer's work--she and her brothers--and she was content. 

There were but two rooms downstairs in the little log house, and themother and Flora slept in the one in which they had been sitting. Sowhen Hamish came back from looking whether the gates and barn-doors weresafely shut, he found Shenac, who had much to say to him, waiting forhim outside. 

"Hamish, " she said eagerly, "what ails you? Why did you not speak to mymother and tell her what we ought to do? Hamish, " she added, puttingout her hand to detain him as he tried to pass her--"Hamish, speak tome. What ails you to-night, Hamish?"

"What right have I to tell my mother--I, who can do nothing?"

He shook off her detaining hand as if he was angry; but there was asound of tears in his voice, and Shenac's momentary feeling of offencewas gone. She would not be shaken off, and putting her arms round hisneck she held him fast. He did not try to free himself after the firstmoment, but he turned away his face. 

"Hamish, " she repeated, "what is it? Don't you think we can manage tokeep together till Allister comes home? Is it that, Hamish? Tell mewhat you think it is right for us to do. "

"It is not that, Shenac; and I have no right to say anything--I, who cando nothing. "

"Hamish!" exclaimed his sister, in a tone in which surprise and painwere mingled. 

"If I were like the rest, " continued Hamish--"I, who am the eldest; buteven Dan can do more than I can. You must not think of me, Shenac, inyour plans. "

For a moment Shenac was silent from astonishment; this was so unlike thecheerful spirit of Hamish. Then she said, --

"Hamish, the work is not all. What could Dan or any of us do withoutyou to plan for us? We are the hands, you are the head. "

Hamish made an impatient movement. "Allister would be head and handstoo, " he said bitterly. 

"But, Hamish, you are not Allister; you are Hamish, just as you havealways been. You are not surely going to fail our mother now--you, whohave done more than all of us put together to comfort her since then?"

Hamish made no answer. 

"It is wrong for you to look at it in that way, Hamish, " continuedShenac. "I once heard my father say that though you were lame, Godmight have higher work for you to do than for any of the rest of us. Idid not know what he meant then, but I know now. "

"Hush! don't, Shenac, " said Hamish. 

"No; I must speak, Hamish. It is not right to fret because the work youhave to do is not just the work you would choose. And you'll break myheart if you vex yourself about--because you are not like the rest. Notone of us all is so dear to my mother and the rest as you are; you know_that_, Hamish. And why should you think of this now, more thanbefore?"

"Shenac, I have been a child till now, thinking of nothing. My lookingforward was but the dreaming of idle dreams. I have wakened since myfather died--wakened to find myself useless, a burden, with so much tobe done. "

"Hamish, " said Shenac gravely, "that is not true, and it's foolish, besides. If you _were_ useless--blind as well as lame--if you were ascankered and ill to do with as you are mild and sweet, there would be noquestion of burden, because you are one of us, our own. If you werethinking of Angus Dhu, you might speak of burdens; but it is nonsense tosay that to me. You know that you are more to my mother than any of us, and you are more to me than all my brothers put together; but I need nottell you _that_. Hamish, if it had not been for you, I think my mothermust have died. What is Dan, or what am I, in comparison to you?Hamish, you must take heart and be strong, for all our sakes. "

They were sitting on the doorstep by this time, and Shenac laid her headon her brother's shoulder as she spoke. 

"I know I am all wrong, Shenac. I know I ought to be content as I am, "said Hamish at last, but he could say no more. 

Shenac's heart filled with love and pity unspeakable. She would havegiven him her health and strength, and would have taken up his burden ofweakness and deformity to bear them henceforth for his sake. But shedid not tell him so; where would have been the good? She sat quitestill, only stroking his hand now and then, till he spoke again. 

"Perhaps I am wrong to speak to you about it, Shenac, but I seem tomyself to be quite changed; I seem to have nothing to look forward to. If it had been me who was taken instead of Lewis. "

"Hamish, " said Shenac gravely, "it is not saying it to me that is wrong, but thinking it. And why should you have nothing to look forward to?We are young. A year seems a long time; but it will pass, and whenAllister comes home, and we are prosperous again, it will be with you asit would have been if my father had lived. You will get to your booksagain, and learn and grow a wise man; and what will it signify that youare little and lame, when you have all the honour that wisdom wins? Ofcourse all these sad changes are worse for you than for the rest. _We_will only have to work a little harder, but your life is quite changed;and, Hamish, it will only be for a little while, till Allister comeshome. "

"But, Shenac, " said Hamish eagerly, "you are not to think I mind _that_most; I am not so bad as that. If I were strong--if I were like therest--I would like nothing so well as to labour always for my mother andyou all; but I can do little. "

"Yes, I know, " said Shenac; "but Dan can do that, and so can I But yourwork will be different--far higher and nobler than ours. Only you mustnot be impatient because you are hindered a little just now. Hamish, bhodach, what is a year out of a whole lifetime? Never fear, you willfind your true work in time. "

"Bhodach" is "old man" in the language in which these children werespeaking. But on Shenac's lips it meant every sweet and tender name;and, listening to her, Hamish forgot his troubles, or looked beyondthem, and his spirit grew bright and trustful again--peaceful for thatnight at least. The shadow fell on him many a time again; but it neverfell so darkly but that the sunshine of his sister's face had power tochase it away, till, by-and-by, there fell on both the light beforewhich all shadows for ever and for ever flee away. 

CHAPTER FOUR. 

And so, with a good heart, they began their work. I daresay it would beamusing to some of my young readers if I were to go into particulars, and tell them all that was done by each from day to day; but I have notime nor space for this. 

The bee was a very successful one. As everybody knows, a bee is acollection of the neighbours to help to do in one day work which itwould take one or two persons a long time to do. It is not usually todo such work as ploughing or sowing that bees are had; but all theneighbours were glad to help the Widow MacIvor with her spring work, andso two large fields, one of oats and another of barley, were in thosetwo days ploughed and harrowed, and sowed and harrowed again. 

Shenac was not quite at her ease about the bee, partly because shethought it had been the doing of Angus Dhu and the elder, and partlybecause she felt if they were to be kept together they must depend, noton their neighbours, but upon themselves. But it was well they had thishelp, for the young people were quite inexperienced in such work asploughing and sowing, and the summers are so short in Canada that a weekor two sooner or later makes a great difference in the sowing of theseed. 

There was enough left for Shenac and her brothers to keep them busy fromsunrise to sunset, during the months of May and June. There was theplanting of potatoes and corn, and the sowing of carrots and turnips;and then there was the hoeing and keeping them all free from weeds. There was also the making of the garden, and the keeping of it in orderwhen it was made. This had always been more the work of Hamish than ofany of the rest, and he made it his work still; and though he was not sostrong as he used to be, there never had been so much pains taken withthe garden before. Everybody knows what comfort for a family comes outof a well-kept garden, even though there may be only the commonvegetables and very little fruit in it; and Hamish made the most oftheirs that summer, and so did they all. 

It must not be supposed that because Shenac was a girl she had no partin the field-work. Even now, in that part of the country, the wives anddaughters of farmers help their fathers and brothers during the busyseasons of spring and harvest; and for many years after the opening upof the country the females helped to clear the land, putting their handsto all kinds of out-door work as cheerfully as need be. As for Shenac, she would have scorned the idea that there was any work that herbrothers could do for which they had not the strength and skill. 

Indeed, Shenac had her full share of the field-work, and much to do inthe house besides. The mother was not strong yet, either in mind orbody: she would never be strong again, Shenac sometimes feared, and shemust be saved as far as possible from all care and anxiety. So theheaviest of the household work fell to Shenac. They had not a largedairy, and never could have again; for the greater part of their pastureand mowing land lay on the wrong side of the high cedar fence so hotlyresented by the children. But the three cows which they had were herpeculiar care. She milked them morning and evening, and, when the dayswere longest, at noon too; and though her mother prepared the dishes forthe milk and skimmed the cream, Shenac always made the butter, becausechurning needed strength as well as skill; and oftener than otherwise itwas done before she called her brothers in the morning. 

Much may be accomplished in a short time by a quick eye and a readyhand, and Shenac had both. The minutes after meal-time which herbrothers took for rest, or for lingering about to talk together, shefilled with the numberless items of household work which seem little inthe doing, but which being left undone bring all things into disorder. 

When any number of persons are brought together in circumstances wheredecision and action become necessary, the leadership will naturally fallon the one among them who is best fitted by natural gifts or acquiredknowledge to assume responsibility. It is the same in families wherethe head has been suddenly removed. Quite unconsciously to herself, Shenac assumed the leadership in the household; and it was well for herbrothers that she had duties within-doors as well as in the fields. There were days in these months of May and June which were not half longenough for the accomplishment of her plans and wishes. I am afraid thatat such times the strength of Hamish and the patience of Dan must havegiven out before she found it too dark to go on with their labours. Butthe thought of the mother, weary with the work at home, made her shortenthe day to her brothers and lengthen it to herself. 

One of Shenac's faults was a tendency to go to extremes in all thingsthat interested her. She had made up her mind that the summer's workmust be successful; and to insure success all other things must be madeto yield. It was easy for her to forget the weakness of Hamish, for hewas only too willing to forget it himself; and as for Dan, though therewas some truth in Angus Dhu's assertion to his mother that "he was awild lad, and needed a firm hand to guide him, " he gave no tokens ofbreaking away as yet. Shenac had so impressed him with the idea thatthey must keep the farm as their own, and show the neighbours that theycould keep it in order, that to him every successful day's work seemed atriumph over Angus Dhu as well as over circumstances. His industry wasquite of his own free will, as he believed, and he gave Shenac none ofthe credit of keeping him busy, and indeed she took none of the creditto herself. In her determination to do the most that could be done, shemight have forgotten her mother's comfort too; but this was notpermitted. For if the mother tired herself with work, or if she sawanything forgotten or neglected in the house, she became fretful anddesponding, and against this Shenac always strove to guard. 

If Shenac were ever so tired at night, it rested her to turn back tolook over the fields beginning to grow green and beautiful under theirhands. They worked in those days to some purpose, everybodyacknowledged. In no neighbourhood, far or near, were the fields betterworth looking at than those that had been so faithfully gone over byShenac and her brothers. Many a farmer paused, in passing, to admirethem, saying to himself that the Widow MacIvor's children were a creditto her and to themselves; and few were so churlish as to refrain fromspeaking a word of encouragement to them when an opportunity came. 

Even Angus Dhu gave many a glance of wonder and pleasure over his cedarrails, and gave them credit for having done more than well. He was veryglad. He said so to himself, and he said so to his neighbours. And Ibelieve he was glad, in a way. He was too good a farmer not to takepleasure in seeing land made the most of; and I think he was glad, too, to see the children of his dead friend and cousin capable of doing sowell for themselves. 

It is just possible that deep down in his heart, unknown orunacknowledged to himself, there lurked a hope that when Shenac shouldmarry, as he thought she was sure to do, and when wild Dan should havegone away, as his brothers had done before him, those well-tilled fieldsmight still become his. Perhaps I am wrong, and hard upon him, asShenac was. 

She gave him no credit for his kind thoughts, but used to say to herbrothers, when she caught a glimpse of his face over the fence, --

"There stands Angus Dhu, glowering and glooming at us. He's not prayingfor summer rain on our behalf, I'll warrant. --Oh well, Angus man, we'lldo without your prayers, as we do without your help, and as you'll haveto do without our land. Make the most of what you have got, and becontent. "

"Shenac, " said Hamish on one of these occasions, "you're hard on AngusDhu. "

"Am I, Hamish?" said Shenac, laughing. "Well, maybe I am; but it willnot harm him, I daresay. "

"But it may harm yourself, Shenac, " said Hamish gravely. "I think Iwould rather lose all the work we have done this spring than have itsaid that our Shenac was bearing false witness against our neighbour, and he of our own kin, too. "

"Nobody would dare to say that of me, " said Shenac, reddening. 

"But if it is true, what is the difference whether it is said or not?"said Hamish. "You seem more glad of our success because you think itvexes Angus Dhu, than because it pleases our mother and keeps us all athome together. It does not vex him, I'm sure of that; and, whether itdoes or not, it is wrong for you always to be thinking and saying it. You are not to be grieved or angry at my saying it, Shenac. "

But both grieved and angry Shenac was at her brother's reproof. She didnot know which was greater, her anger or her grief. She did not trustherself to answer him, and in a little time Hamish spoke again:--

"It cannot harm him--at least, I think it cannot really harm him, thoughit may vex him; and I'm sure it must grieve the girls to hear that yousay such things about their father. But that is not what I was thinkingabout. It must harm yourself most. You are growing hard and bitter. You are not like yourself, Shenac, when you speak of Angus Dhu. "

The sting of her brother's words was in the last sentence, but it wasthe first part that Shenac answered. 

"You know very well, Hamish, that I never speak of Angus Dhu except toyou--not even to my mother. "

"You have spoken to Dan--at least, you have spoken in his hearing. Whatdo you think I heard him saying the other day to Shenac yonder?"

"Shenac yonder" was the youngest daughter of Angus Dhu, so called by thebrothers to distinguish her from their sister, who was "our Shenac" tothem. Other people distinguished between the cousins as they hadbetween the fathers. One was Shenac Bhan; the other, Shenac Dhu. 

"I don't know, " said Shenac, startled. "What was it?"

"Something like what you were saying to me just now. You may think howShenac's black eyes looked when she heard him. "

Shenac was shocked. 

"She would not mind what Dan said. "

"No. It was only when Dan told her that _you_ said it that she seemedto mind, " said Hamish gravely. 

"Dan had no business to tell her, " said Shenac hotly; then she paused. 

"No, " said Hamish; "I told him that. "

"I'll give him a hearing, " began Shenac. 

"I think, Shenac, you should say nothing to Dan about it, " said Hamish. "Only take care never to say more than you think before the little ones, or indeed before any one again. You may vex Angus Dhu, and Shenacyonder, and the rest, but the real harm is done to us at home, andespecially to yourself, Shenac; for you no more believe that Angus Dhuis a robber--the oppressor of the widow and the fatherless--than I do. "

Shenac uttered an exclamation of impatience. 

"I shall give it to Dan. "

"No, Shenac, you will not. Dan must be carefully dealt with. He has astrong will of his own, and if it comes into his mind that you or anyone, except our mother, is trying to govern him, he'll slip through ourfingers some fine day. "

"You've been taking a leaf out of Angus Dhu's book. There's no fear ofDan, " said Shenac. 

"There's no fear of him as long as he thinks he's pleasing himself, andthat his sister is the best and the wisest girl to be found, " saidHamish. "But if it were to come to a trial of strength between you, Danwould be sure to win. "

Shenac was silent. She knew it would not be well to risk her influenceover Dan by a struggle of any sort. But she was very angry with him. 

"He might have had more sense, " she said, after a moment. 

"And indeed, Shenac, so might you, " said Hamish gravely. "There shouldbe no more said about Angus Dhu, for his sake and ours. He has beenvery friendly to us this summer, considering all things. "

"Considering what I said to him, you mean, " said Shenac sharply. "I wassorry for that as soon as I said it. But, Hamish, if you think I'mgoing down on my knees to Angus Dhu to tell him so, you're mistaken. Hemay not be a thief and a robber, but he's a dour carle, though he is ofour own kin, and as different from our father as the dark is differentfrom the day. And I can say nothing else of him, even for your sake, Hamish. "

"It is not for my sake that I am speaking, Shenac, but for your own. You are doing yourself a great wrong, cherishing this bitterness in yourheart. "

Shenac was too much grieved and too angry to speak. She knew very wellthat she was neither very good nor very wise; but it had hitherto beenher great pleasure in life to know that Hamish thought her so, and hiswords were very painful to her. She was vexed with him, and with Dan, and with all the world. Above all, she was vexed with herself. 

She would not confess it, but in her heart she knew that a little of thezest would be taken from their labours if she were sure that theirsuccess would not be a source of vexation to Angus Dhu. And then Hamishhad said she was injuring Dan--encouraging him in what was wrong--perhaps risking her influence for good over him. 

The longer she thought about all this, the more unhappy she became. "Bearing false witness!" she repeated. It was a great sin she had beencommitting. It had been done thoughtlessly, but it was none the less asin for that, Shenac knew. Hamish was right. She was growing very hardand wicked; and no wonder that he had come to think so meanly of her. Shenac said all this to herself, with many sorrowful and some angrytears. But the anger passed away before the sorrow. There were noconfessions made openly; but, whatever may have been her secret thoughtsof Angus Dhu, neither Dan nor Hamish nor anybody else ever heard Shenacspeak a disrespectful word of him again. 

Dan never got the "hearing" with which she had threatened him. Shechecked him more than once, when in the old way he began to remark onthe evident interest that their father's cousin took in their work; butshe did it gently, remembering her own fault. 

The intercourse which had almost ceased between the families wasgradually renewed--at least, between the younger ones. Shenac could notbring herself to go often to her cousins' house. She always felt, asshe said to Hamish, as though Angus Dhu "eyed her" at such times. And, besides, she was too busy to go there or anywhere else. But her cousinscame often to see her when the day's work was over; and Shenac, theyoungest, who was her father's favourite, and who could take libertiesthat none of the others could have done at her age, came at other times. She was older than our Shenac by a year or so; but she was little andmerry, and her jet-black hair was cut close to her head like a child's, so she seemed much younger. She could not come too often. She wasequally welcome to the grave, quiet Hamish and the boyish Dan, and morewelcome to Shenac than to either. For she never hindered work, buthelped it rather. She brought the news, too, and fought hot, merrybattles with the lads, and for the time shook even Hamish out of thegrave ways that were becoming habitual to him, and did Shenac herselfgood by reminding her that she was not an old woman burdened with care, but a young girl not sixteen, to whom fun and frolic ought to benatural. 

There were not many newspapers taken in those parts about that time; butAngus Dhu took one, and Shenac used to come over the fence with it, and, giving it to Hamish, would take his hoe or rake and go on with his workwhile he read the news to the rest. The newspaper was English, ofcourse. Gaelic was the language spoken at home--the language in whichthe Bible was read, and the Catechism said; but the young people allspoke and read English. And very good English too, as far as it went;for it was book-English, learned at school from books that are nowconsidered out of date. But they were very good books for all that. They used to have long discussions about the state of the world as theygathered it from the newspapers--not always grave or wise, but useful, especially to Shenac, by keeping her in mind of what in her untiringindustry she was in danger of forgetting, that there was a wide worldbeyond these quiet lines within which they were living, where noblerwork than the mere earning of bread was being done by worthy and willinghands. 

CHAPTER FIVE. 

July had come. There was a little pause in the field-work, for all theseed had been sown and all the weeds pulled up, and they were waitingfor a week or two to pass, and then the haying was to begin. Evenhaying did not promise to be a very busy season with them, for thecutting and caring for the hay in their largest field would this yearfall to the lot of Angus Dhu. It was as well so, Shenac said to herselfwith a sigh, for they could not manage much hay by themselves, andpaying wages would never do for them. Indeed, they would need some helpeven with the little they had; for Dan had never handled a scythe exceptin play, and Hamish, even if he had the skill, had not the strength. 

And then the wool. They must have their cloth early this year, for lastyear they had been obliged to sell the wool, and the boys' clothes werethreadbare. If they could get the wool spun early, McLean the weaverwould weave their cloth first. She must try to see what could be done. But, oh, that weary little wheel!

Shenac's mother thought it was a wonderful little wheel; and so indeedit was. It had been part of the marriage outfit of Shenac's grandmotherbefore she left her Highland home. It had been in almost constant useall these years, and bade fair to be as good as ever for as many yearsto come. There was no wearing it out or putting it out of order, for, like most things made in those old times, it had strength if notelegance, and Shenac's mother was as careful of it as a modern musicallady is of her grand piano. 

I cannot describe it to you, for I am not very well acquainted with suchinstruments of labour. It was not at all like the wheels which are usednow-a-days in districts where the great manufactories have not yet putwheels out of use. It was a small, low, complicated affair, at whichthe spinner sat, using both foot and hand. It needed skill and patienceto use it well, and strength too. A long day's work well done on thelittle wheel left one far wearier than a day's work in the field. 

As for Shenac, the very thought of it made her weary. If she had livedin the present day, she would have said it made her nervous. But, happily for Shenac, she did not know that she had any nerves, and hermother's wheel got the blame of her discomfort. Not that she everventured to speak a disrespectful word of it. The insane idea thatperhaps her mother might be induced to sell it and buy one of thenew-fashioned kind, like that Archie Matheson's young wife had broughtwith her, _did_ come into her head once, but she never spoke of it. Itwould have been wrong as well as foolish to do so, for her mother wouldnever try to learn to use the new one, and half the comfort of her lifewould be gone without her faithful friend, the little wheel. 

"Oh, if I could get one for myself!" said Shenac. She had seen and usedMary Matheson's last summer, and now, hurried as she was at home, shetook an afternoon to go with Hamish to see it again. 

"Could you not make one, Hamish?" she said entreatingly; "you can do somany things. "

But Hamish shook his head. 

"I might make the stock if I had tools; but the rest of it--no. "

The sheep were shorn. There were sixteen fleeces piled up in the barn;but a great deal must be done to it before it could be ready for theboys to wear. One thing Shenac had determined on. It should be sentand carded at the mill. The mill was twenty miles away, to be sure--perhaps more; but the time taken for the journey would be saved tentimes over. Shenac thought she might possibly get through the spinning, but to card it by hand, with all there was to do in the fields, would bequite impossible. 

This matter troubled Shenac all the more that she could not share hervexation with Hamish. The idea of selling the grandmother's wheelseemed to him little short of sacrilege; and neither he nor their cousinShenac could see why the mother could not dye and card and spin thewool, as she had been accustomed to do. But Shenac knew this to beimpossible. Her mother was able for no such work now, though she mightthink so herself; and Shenac knew that to try and fail would make themother miserable. What was to be done? Over this question she ponderedwith an earnestness, and, alas! with a uselessness, that gave impatienceto her hand and sharpness to her voice at last. 

"What aileth thee, Shenac Bhan, bonny Shenac, Shenac the farmer, Shenacthe fair? Wherefore rests the shadow on thy brow, and the look ofsadness in thine azure eyes?" Hamish had been reading to them GaelicOssian, and Shenac Dhu had caught up the manner of the poem, and spokein a way that made them all laugh. Shenac Bhan laughed too; but notbecause she was merry, for her cousin's nonsense always vexed her whenshe was "out of sorts. " But her cousin Christie was there, Mrs More, the eldest sister of Shenac Dhu; and so Shenac Bhan laughed with therest. She was here on a visit from the city of M--- where she lived, and had come over to see her aunt, as Angus Dhu's children always calledthe widow. A heavy summer shower was falling, and all the boys hadtaken refuge from it in the house, and there were noise and confusionfor a time. 

"I want Christie to come into the barn and see our wool, " said ShenacBhan at last, when the shower was over. "And, Shenac--dark Shenac, doleful Shenac--you are to stay and keep the lads in order till we comeback. "

Shenac Dhu made a face, but let them go. 

Mrs More was a pale, quiet woman, with a grave but kind manner, whichput Shenac at her ease at once, though she had not seen her since hermarriage, which was more than five years before. She had always beenvery kind to the children when she lived at home, and the memory of thisgave Shenac courage to ask her help out of at least one of herdifficulties. 

"How much you have grown, Shenac!" said her cousin. "I hardly think Iwould have known you if I had seen you anywhere else. Yes, I think Iwould have known your face anywhere. But you are a woman now, and doinga woman's work, they tell me. "

"We have all been busy this summer, " said Shenac; "but our hurry is overnow for a while. "

Heedless of the little pools that were shining here and there, they wentfirst into the garden, and then round the other buildings, and over tothe spot, still black and charred, where the house had stood. Butlittle was said by either of them. 

"Do you like living in the city?" said Shenac at last. 

"For some things I like it--for most things, indeed; but sometimes Ilong for a sight of the fields and woods, more for my wee Mary's sakethan for my own. "

"This is our wool, " said Shenac, as they entered the barn; "I wish itwas spun. "

"Shenac, " said her cousin kindly, "have you not undertaken too much?It's all very well for you to speak of Hamish and Dan, but the weightmust fall on you. I see that plainly. "

But Shenac would not let her think so. 

"I only do my share, " said she eagerly. 

"I think you could have helped them more by coming to M--- and taking asituation. You could learn to do anything, Shenac, if you were to try. "

But Shenac would not listen. 

"We must keep together, " said she; "and the land must be kept forAllister. There is no fear. We shall not grow rich, but we can live, if we bide all together and do our best. "

"Shenac, " persisted her cousin, "I do not want to discourage you; butthere are so many things which a girl like you ought not to do--cannotdo, indeed, without breaking your health. I know. I was the eldest athome. I know what there is to do in a place like yours. The doctortells me I shall never be quite well again, because of the long strainof hard work and exposure when I was young like you. Think, if yourhealth was to fail. "

Shenac turned her compassionate eyes upon her. 

"But your father was hard on you, folks say, and I have the work at myown taking. "

Mrs More shook her head sadly. 

"Ah, Shenac dear, circumstances may be far harder on you than ever myfather was on me. You do not know what may lie before you. No girllike you should have such responsibility. If you will come with me orfollow me, you and Hamish, I can do much for you. You could learn to doanything, Shenac, and Hamish is very clever. There are places where hislittleness and his lameness would not be against him, as they must be onthe land. Let my father take Dan, as he wished, and let Hughie go tothe elder's for a while. The land can lie here safe enough tillAllister comes home, if that is what you wish. Indeed, Shenac, you donot know what you are undertaking. "

"Cousin Christie, " said Shenac gently, "you are very kind, but I cannotleave my mother; and I am strong--stronger than you think. Christie, you speak as though you thought Allister would never come home. Was ourAllister a wild lad, as your father says? Surely, he'll come home tohis mother, now that his father is dead. "

She sat down on the pile of wool, and turned a very pale, frightenedface to her cousin. Mrs More stooped down and kissed her. 

"My dear, " she said gently, "Allister was not a wild lad in my time, butgood and truthful--one who honoured his parents. But, Shenac, the worldis wide, and there are so many things that those who have lived in thisquiet place all their lives cannot judge of. And even if Allister wereto come back, he might not be content to settle down here in the oldquiet way. The land would seem less to him than it seems to you. "

"But if Allister should not come home, or if he should not stay, mymother will need me all the more. No, Cousin Christie, you must notdiscourage me. I must try it. And, indeed, it is not I alone. Hamishhas so much sense and judgment, and Dan is growing so strong. And wewill try it anyway. "

"Well, Shenac, you deserve to succeed, and you will succeed if anybodycould, " said her cousin. "I will not discourage you. I wish I couldhelp you instead. "

"You can help me, " said Shenac eagerly; "that's what I brought you outto say. Our wool--you are going back soon, and if the waggon goes, willyou ask your father to let our wool go to the mill? The carding takesso long, and my mother is not so strong as she used to be. And that isone of the things I cannot abide. The weary little wheel is bad enough. Will you ask your father, Christie?"

Mrs More laughed. 

"That is but a small favour, Shenac. Of course my father will take it, and he'll bring it back too; for, though it is not his usual plan atthis time of the year, he's going on all the way to M--- with butter. There came word yesterday that there was great demand for it. The woolwill be done by the time he comes back; and he is to take his own too, Ibelieve. "

Shenac gave a sigh of relief. 

"Well, that's settled. "

"Why did you not ask my father himself?" said Mrs More. "Are not youand he good friends, Shenac?" Shenac muttered something about notliking to give trouble and not liking to ask Angus Dhu. Mrs Morelaughed again. 

"I think you are hard on my father, Shenac. I think he would be a goodfriend to you if you would let him. You must not mind a sharp word fromthe like of him. His bark is worse than his bite. "

Shenac was inexpressibly uncomfortable, remembering that all the hardwords had come from her and not from Angus Dhu. 

"Well, never mind, " said Mrs More; "the carrying of the wool is myfather's favour. What can I do for you, Shenac?"

"You can do one thing for me, " said Shenac briskly, glad to escape froma painful subject, and laying her hand on a shining instrument of steelthat peeped from beneath the wool on which she was sitting. "You cancut my hair off. My mother does not like to do it, and Hamish won't. Iwas going to ask Shenac yonder; but you will do it better. " And shebegan to loosen the heavy braids. 

"What's that about Shenac yonder?" said that young person, coming inupon them. "I should like to know what you are plotting, you two, together--and bringing in my innocent name too!"

"Nothing very bad, " said Shenac, laughing. "I want Christie to cut myhair, it is such a trouble; it takes a whole half-hour at one time orother of the day to keep it neat, and half-hours are precious. "

"I don't like to do it, Shenac, " said Mrs More. 

Shenac Dhu held up her hands in astonishment. 

"Cut your hair off! Was the like ever heard of?--Nonsense, Christie!she never means it; and Hamish would never let her, besides. She'lllook no better than the rest of us without her hair, " continued she, taking the heavy braids out of Shenac's hands and pushing her back onthe pile of wool from which she had risen. "Christie, tell Shenac aboutJohn Cameron, as you told us last night. "

While Shenac listened to the account of a sad accident that had happenedto a young man from another part of the country, Shenac Dhu let down thelong, fair hair of her cousin, and, by the help of an old card that laynear, smoothed it till it lay in waves and ripples of gold far below herwaist. Then, as Shenac Bhan still sat, growing pale and red by turns asshe listened, she with great care rolled the shining mass into thickcurls over neck and shoulders. 

"Now stand up and show yourself, " said she, as she finished. "Is shenot a picture? Christie, you should take her to the town with you andput her up in your husband's shop-window. You would make her fortuneand your own too. "

Shenac Bhan had this advantage over her cousin, and indeed over mostpeople--that the sun that made them as brown as a berry, after the firstfew days' exposure left her as fair and unfreckled as ever; and shereally was a very pretty picture as she stood laughing and blushingbefore her cousins. The door opened, and Hamish came in. 

"My mother sent me to bid you all come in to tea;" but he stopped as hiseye fell on his sister. 

"Tea!" cried Shenac Bhan. "I meant to do all that myself. Who wouldhave thought that we had been here so long?" And she made a movement, as if to bind back her hair, that she might hasten away. 

"Be quiet; stay till I bid you go, " said Shenac Dhu, hastily letting thecurls fall again. "I wonder if all the puddles are dried up?--She oughtto see herself. Cut them off! The vain creature! Never fear, Hamish. "

"Christie is to cut it, " said Shenac Bhan, laughing, and holding thewool-shears towards Mrs More. "I must do it, Hamish; it takes such atime to keep it decently neat. My mother does not care, and why shouldyou?"

"Whisht, Hamish, " said Shenac Dhu, "you're going to quote Saint Paul andSaint Peter about a woman's hair being a covering and a glory. Don'tfash yourself. Why, she would deserve to be a Scots worthy more thanGeorge Wishart, or than the woman who was drowned even, if she were todo it!"

"You had your own cut, " said Shenac Bhan, looking at her cousin withsome surprise. "Why should I not do the same?"

"You are not me. Everybody has not my strength of mind, " said ShenacDhu, nodding gravely. 

"Toch! you cut yours that it might grow long and thick like ourShenac's, " said Dan, who had been with them for some time. "Think ofyour hair, and look at this. " And he lifted the fair curls admiringly. 

Shenac Bhan laughed. 

"It's an awful bother, Dan. "

"But it would be a pity to lose it. What a lot of it there is!" Andthe boy walked round his sister, touching it as he went. 

"She never meant to do it; but after that she could not, " said ShenacDhu, pretending to whisper. 

"Our Shenac never says what she doesn't mean, " said Dan hotly. 

"Whatever other people's Shenacs do, " said Hamish laughing. 

Shenac Dhu made as if she would charge him with the great shears. 

"Give them to Christie, " said Shenac Bhan. "What a work to make aboutnothing!"

"She does not mean to do it yet, " said Shenac Dhu; but she handed theshears to her sister. 

"I don't like to do it, Shenac, " said Mrs More. "Think how long itwill take to grow again; and it is beautiful hair, " she added, as shecame near and passed her fingers through it. 

"Nonsense, Christie, she's not in earnest, " persisted Shenac Dhu. 

With a quick, impatient motion, Shenac Bhan took the shears from hercousin's hand and severed one--two--three of the bright curls from themass. Shenac Dhu uttered a cry. 

"There! did I not tell you?" cried Dan, forgetting everything else inhis triumph over Shenac Dhu. Hamish turned and went out without a word. 

"There, " said Shenac Bhan; "you must do it now, Christie. "

Mrs More took the great shears and began to cut without a word; and noone spoke again till the curls lay in a shining heap at their feet. Then Shenac Dhu drew a long breath, and said, --

"Don't say afterwards it was my fault. "

"It was just your fault, Shenac Dhu, you envious, spiteful thing, "exclaimed the indignant Dan. 

"Nonsense, Cousin Shenac. --Be quiet, Dan. She had nothing to do withit. It has been a trouble all summer, and I'm glad to be rid of it. Ionly wish I could spin it, like the wool. "

"What a lot of it there is!" And Shenac Dhu stooped down and lifted along tress or two tenderly, as if they had life. 

"What will you do with it, Shenac?"

"Burn it, since I cannot make stockings of it. Put them in here. " Andshe held up her apron. 

"Will you give your hair to me, Shenac?" asked Mrs More. 

"What can you do with it?" asked Shenac in some surprise. "Surely I'llgive it to you, so that I hear no more about it. " The curls werecarefully gathered, and tied in Mrs More's handkerchief. 

"Shenac Bhan, " said the other Shenac solemnly, "you look like a shornsheep. I shall never see you again without thinking of the young womantied to the stake on the sands, and the sea coming up and up--"

"Shenac, be quiet. It is sinful to speak lightly of so solemn a thing, "said her sister gravely. 

"Solemn!" said Shenac. "Lightly! By no means. I was putting twosolemn things together. I don't know which is more solemn. For mypart, I would as soon feel the cold water creeping up my back, like--"

"Shenac, " said our Shenac entreatingly, "don't say foolish things andvex my mother and Hamish. "

Her cousin put her hand on her mouth. 

"You have heard my last word. "

But the last word about the shining curls was not spoken yet. 

CHAPTER SIX. 

The day when the haying was to have commenced was very rainy, and so wasevery day for a week or more. People were becoming a little anxious asto the getting in of the hay; for in almost all the fields it was morethan ripe, and everybody knows that it should not stand long after that. The fields of the Macivors were earlier than those of most people, andShenac was especially careful to get the hay in at the right time and ingood condition, because they had so much less of it than ever before. 

And besides, the wheat-harvest was coming on, and where there were sofew to help, every day made a difference. Whenever there came a glimpseof sunshine, Dan was out in the field, making good use of his scythe;for mowing was new and exciting work to him, though he had seen it doneevery summer of his life. It is not every boy of fourteen that couldswing a scythe to such good purpose as Dan, and he might be excused forbeing a little proud and a little unreasonable in the matter. And afterall, I daresay he knew quite as much about it as Shenac. When she toldhim how foolish it was to cut down grass when there was no chance ofgetting it dried, he only laughed and pointed to the fields of AngusDhu, where there were three men busy, and acres and acres of grass lyingas it had fallen. 

"You are a good farmer, Shenac, but Angus Dhu, you must confess, has hadmore experience, and is a better judge of the weather. We're safeenough to follow him. "

There was reason in this, but it vexed Shenac to have Angus Dhu quotedas authority; and it vexed her too that Dan should take the matter intohis own hands without regard to her judgment. 

"Angus Dhu can get all the help he needs to make the hay when it fairs, "said she. "But if we have too much down we shall not be able to manageit right, I'm afraid. "

"There's no fear of having too much down. I must keep at it. Wherethere's only one man to cut, he must keep at it, " said Dan gravely. "Ifyou and the rest of the children are busy when the sun shines, you willsoon overtake me. "

"Only one man!" "You and the rest of the children!" Vexed as Shenacwas, she could not help being amused, and fortunately a good deal of hervexation passed away in the laugh, in which Dan heartily joined. 

This week of rain was a trying time to Shenac. Nothing could be doneout of doors, for the rain was constant and heavy. If she could havehad the wheel to herself, she would have got on with the spinning, andthat would have been something, she thought. Her mother was spinning, however; and though she could not sit at the wheel all day, she did notlike to have her work interfered with, and Shenac could not make use ofthe time when her mother was not employed, and very little wasaccomplished. There was mending to be done, which her mother could havedone so much better than she could, Shenac thought. But her mother satat the wheel, and Shenac wearied herself over the shirts and trousers ofher brothers, and at last startled herself and every one else byspeaking sharply to little Flora and shaking Colin well for bringing inmud on their feet when they came home from school. 

After that she devoted her surplus energies to the matter ofhouse-cleaning, and that did better. Everything in the house, bothupstairs and down, and everything in the dairy, passed through herhands. Things that could be scrubbed were scrubbed, and things thatcould be polished were polished. The roof and the walls werewhitewashed, and great maple-branches hung here and there upon them, that the flies might not soil their whiteness; and then Shenac solemnlydeclared to Hamish that it was time the rain should cease. 

Hamish laughed. The week had passed far less uncomfortably to him thanto his sister. He had made up his mind to the necessity of stayingwithin-doors during such weather; and he could do so all the more easilyas, with a good conscience, he could give himself up to the enjoyment ofa book that had fallen into his hands. It was not a new book. Two orthree of the first pages were gone, but it was as good as new to Hamish. It was a new kind of arithmetic, his friend Rugg, the peddler, toldhim. He knew Hamish liked that sort of thing, and so he had brought itto him. 

Hamish was quite occupied with it. He forgot the hay, and the rain, andeven his own rheumatic pains, in the interest with which he pored overit. Shenac did not grudge him his pleasure. She even tried to get upan interest in the unknown quantities, whose values, Hamish assured her, were so easily discovered by the rules laid down in the book. But shedid not enter heartily into her brother's pleasure, as she usually did. She wondered at him, and thought it rather foolish in him to be so takenup with trifles when there was so much to think about. She forgot to beglad that her brother had found something to keep him from vexinghimself, as he had done so much of late, by thinking how little he coulddo for his mother and the rest; and she said to herself that ChristieMore had been right when she said that it was upon her that the burdenof care and labour must fall. 

"You are tired to-night, Shenac, " said Hamish, as she sat gazingsilently and listlessly into the fire. 

"Tired!" repeated Shenac scornfully. "What with, I wonder. Yes, I amtired with staying within-doors, when there is so much to be doneoutside. If my mother would only let me take the wheel, that would besomething. "

"But my mother is busy with it herself, " said Hamish. "Surely you donot think you can do more or better than my mother?"

"Not better, but more; twice as much in a day as she is doing now. We'll not get our cloth by the new year, at the rate the spinning isgoing on, and the lads' clothes will hardly hold together even now. "Shenac gave an impatient sigh. 

"But, Shenac, " said her brother, "there is no use in fretting about it;that will do no good. "

"No; if only one could help it, " said Shenac. 

"Shenac, my woman, " said the mother from the other side of the fire, "Idoubt you'll need to go to The Eleventh to-morrow for the dye-stuffs. Iam not able to go so far myself, I fear. "

The townships, or towns, of that part of the country are all divided offinto portions, a mile in width, called concessions; and as the littlecluster of houses where the store was had no name as yet, it was calledThe Eleventh; and indeed, all the different localities were named fromthe concession in which they were found. 

"There is no particular hurry about going, I suppose, mother, " Shenacanswered indifferently. 

"The sooner the better, " said her mother. "The things are as well hereas there, and we'll need them soon. What is to hinder you from goingto-morrow?"

"If the morning is fair, I'll need Shenac's help at the hay, mother, "said Dan with an air. 

"I'll need Shenac's help!" It might have been Angus Dhu himself, by theway it was said, Shenac thought. It was ludicrous. Her mother did notseem to see anything ludicrous in it, however; for she only answered, --

"Oh yes, Dan; if it should be fair, I suppose I can wait. " Hamish wasbusy with his book again. 

"It's a very heavy crop, " continued Dan. "It is all that a man can doto cut yon grass and keep at it steady. "

Of course Dan did not mean to take the credit of the heavy crop tohimself, but it sounded exactly as if he did; and there was somethingexceedingly provoking to Shenac in the way in which he stretched himselfup when he said, "all that a man can do. " A laughing glance that cameto her over the top of Hamish's book dispelled her momentary anger, however. 

"If Hamish does not mind, I'm sure _I_ need not, " she said to herself. 

Dan went on:--"I shall put what I have cut to-day in the long barn. Itwill be just the thing for the spring's work. "

Dan's new-found far-sightedness was too much for the gravity of Hamish, and Shenac joined heartily in the laugh. Dan looked a littlediscomfited. 

"You must settle it with Shenac and your brother, " said the mother. 

"All right, Dan, my boy, " said Hamish heartily; "it's always best tolook ahead, as Mr Rugg would say. --What do you think, Shenac?"

"All right; only you should not say `my boy' to our Dan, but `my man, '"said Shenac gravely. 

Even little Flora could understand the joke of Dan's assuming the airsof manhood, and all laughed heartily. Dan joined in the laughgood-humouredly enough. 

"You see, Shenac, " said Hamish, during the few minutes they alwayslingered together after the others had gone to bed, "Dan may be led, buthe will not be driven--at least, not by you or me. "

"Led!" exclaimed Shenac; "I think he means to lead us all. That scythehas made a man of him all at once. I declare it goes past my patienceto hear the monkey. "

"It must not go past your patience if you can help it, Shenac, " said herbrother. "All that nonsense will be laughed out of him, but it must notbe by you or me. "

"Oh, well, I'm not caring, " said Shenac. "I only hope it will be fairto-morrow, so that I can get to help him. I could mow as well as he, ifmy mother would let me. However, it's all the same whether I help himor he helps me, so that the work is done some way. "

"We'll all help one another, " said Hamish. "Shenac, you were right theother day when you told me I was wrong to murmur because I could not domore than God had given me strength to do. It does not matter what workfalls to each of us, so that it is well done; and we can never do itunless we keep together. "

"No fear, Hamish, bhodach, we'll keep together, " said Shenac heartily. "I do hope to-morrow may be fine. "

CHAPTER SEVEN. 

But to-morrow was not fine; it was quite the contrary. Shenac milked inthe rain, and gathered vegetables for dinner in the rain, and wouldgladly have made hay all day in the rain, if that had been possible. Not a pin cared Shenac for the rain. It wet her face, and twined herhair into numberless little rings all over her head, and that was thevery worst it could do. It could not spoil her shoes, for in summer shedid not wear any, unless she was in the field; and it took the rain along time to penetrate through the thick woollen dress she always worein rainy weather. Indeed, she rather liked to be out in the rain, especially when there was a high wind, against which she might measureher strength; and she was just going to propose to her mother that sheshould set out to The Eleventh for the dye-stuffs, when the door opened, and her cousin Shenac came in. 

Rain or shine, Shenac Dhu was always welcome, and quite a chorus ofexclamations greeted her. 

"Toch! what about the rain! I'm neither salt nor sugar to melt in it, "she said, as Shenac Bhan took off her wet plaid and drew her towards thefire. "I must not stay, " she continued. --"Hamish, have you done withyour book? Mr Rugg stayed at our house last night, and he's cominghere next, and so I ran over the field to see his pretty things. --OShenac, he has such a pretty print this time--blue and white. "

"But could you not see his pretty things last night? And are you to geta dress of the blue and white?" asked Shenac Bhan. 

"Of course I could see them, but I could not take a good look at thembecause my father was there. He thinks me a sensible woman, and I can'tbear to undeceive him; and my eyes have a trick of looking at prettythings as though I wanted them, and that looks greedy. But I'm not fora dress of the blue and white. Mysie Cairns in The Sixteenth has one, and that's enough for one township. "

"But Mr Rugg will not open his packs here; we want nothing, " saidShenac Bhan, "unless he may have dye-stuffs for my mother. "

"He has no dye-stuffs--you'll get that at The Eleventh, " said ShenacDhu; "but it's nonsense about not wanting anything. I'll venture to saythat Mr Rugg will leave more here than he left at our house, or at anyhouse in the town-ship. I wish he would come. "

They all had plenty to say to Shenac Dhu, but that her mind was full ofother things it was easy to see. She laughed and chatted, but shewatched the window till the long, high waggon of the peddler came insight, and then she drew Shenac Bhan into a corner and kept her theretill the door opened. 

"Good-morning, good-morning, " said the peddler as he came in. Glancinground the room, he stood still on the door-mat with a comical look ofindecision on his face. "I don't suppose you want to see me enough topay for the tracks I shall make on the floor, " he said to Shenac Bhan. "I don't know as I should have come round this way this time, only I'vegot something for you--something you'll be glad to have. "

Everybody was indignant at the idea of his not coming in. 

"Never mind the floor, " said Shenac Bhan. "We don't want anythingto-day, but we are glad to see you all the same. "

"Don't say you don't want anything till you see what I've got, " said MrRugg gravely. "I ha'n't no doubt there's a heap of things you wouldlike, if you could get them. Now, a'n't there?"

"She wants a wig, for one thing, " said Shenac Dhu. 

"Well, no; I calculate she'll get along without that as well as mostfolks. I don't see as you spoiled your looks, for all Mrs More said, "he added, as he touched with his long forefinger one of the little ringsthat clustered round Shenac's head. "Come, now, a'n't there somethingI've got that you want?" he asked as Shenac turned away with animpatient shrug. 

"No; not if you haven't a wig. Do we want anything, mother? It is notworth while to open your box in the rain. "

Mr Rugg was already out of hearing. 

"We can look at them, at any rate, " said Shenac Dhu. But Shenac Bhanlooked very much as if she did not intend to do even that, till the dooropened again, and Mr Rugg walked in, followed by Dan, and between themthey carried a spinning-wheel. 

"A big wheel, just like Mary Matheson's!" exclaimed Shenac Bhan. 

"No; a decided improvement upon that, " said Mr Rugg, preparing to puton the rim and the head. The band was ready, too; and he turned thewheel and pulled out an imaginary thread with such gravity that alllaughed. "Well, what do you think of it, girls?" he asked after alittle time. "Will you have it, Miss Shenac?"

"I should like to borrow it for a month, " said Shenac with a sigh. 

"It a'n't to be lent nor to be borrowed, " said the peddler; "leastways, it a'n't for me to lend. The owner may do as she likes. "

"How much would it cost?" asked Shenac with a vague, wild idea thatpossibly at some future time she might get one. 

"I can tell you that exactly, " said the peddler. "I've got the invoicehere all right, and another document with it;" and he handed Shenac aletter, directed, as she knew at a glance, in the handwriting of hercousin, Mrs More. 

"It's from Christie, " said Shenac Dhu, looking over her shoulder. "Openit, Shenac; what ails you?"

Shenac opened the letter, and the other Shenac read it with her. Itneed not be given here. It told how Mrs More had taken Shenac's hairto a hair-dresser in the city, and how the money she had received for ithad been given into the hands of Mr Rugg, who was to buy a wheel withit, as something Shenac would be sure to value. 

"And here it is, " said Mr Rugg; "as good a wheel as need be. --It willput yours quite out of fashion, Mrs Macivor. "

It was with some difficulty that the mother could be made to understandthat the wheel was Shenac's--bought and paid for. As for Shenac, shecould only stand and look at it, saying not a word. Shenac Dhu shookher heartily. 

"Here I have come all the way in the rain to hear what you would say, and you stand and glower and say nothing at all. "

"Try it, Shenac, " said Hamish, bringing a handful of rolls of wool fromhis mother's wheel. 

"She'll need to learn first, " said Shenac Dhu. 

But Shenac had tried Mary Matheson's wheel more than once; and besides, as Mr Rugg had often said, and now triumphantly repeated, she had a"faculty. " There really did seem nothing that she could not learn to domore easily than other people. Now the long thread was drawn out evenand fine as any that ever passed through the mother's hands on theprecious little wheel. The mother examined and approved, Shenac Dhuexclaimed, and the little lads laughed and clapped their hands. As forShenac Bhan, she could hardly believe in her own good fortune. She didnot seem to hear the talk or the laugh, but, with a face intent andgrave, walked up and down, drawing out the long, even threads, and thenletting them roll up smoothly on the spindle. 

"Take it moderate, Miss Shenac, " said the peddler, "take it moderate. It don't pay to overdo even a good thing. "

But Shenac was busy calculating how many days' work there might be inthe wool, and how long it would take her to finish it. 

"The rainy days will not be lost now, " she said to herself triumphantly. "Of course I must stick to the hay; but mornings and evenings and rainydays I can spin. No fear for the lads' clothes now. "

"Hamish, " said Shenac Dhu, "I shall never see her without fancying shehas a wheel on her head. "

Hamish laughed. His pleasure in the pleasure of his sister was intense. 

"I don't know what we can ever say to Christie for her kindness, " hesaid. 

"We'll write a letter to her, Hamish, you and I together, " said hissister eagerly. "I can't think how it all happened. But I am so gladand thankful; and I must tell Christie. "

The next day was fair. When Shenac went out with little Hugh to themilking in the pasture, she thought she heard the pleasant sound of thewhetting of scythes nearer than the fields of Angus Dhu. She could seenothing, however, because of the mist that lay close over the low lands. But when she went out after breakfast to spread the grass cut by Danduring the rainy days, she found work going on that made Dan's effortsseem like play. 

"Is it a bee?" said Shenac to herself. 

No, it was not a bee, Aleck Munroe said, but he and the other ladsthought there was as much hay down in their fields as could be wellcared for, and so they thought they would see what could be done intheir neighbour's. It was likely to continue fine now, as the weatherhad cleared at the change of the moon; and a few hours would help here, without hindering there. 

"Help! Yes, indeed!" thought Shenac as she watched the swinging of thescythes, and saw the broad swaths of grain that fell as they passed on. Dan followed, but he made small show after the young giants that hadtaken the work in hand; and in a little while he made a virtue ofnecessity and exchanged the scythe for the spreading-pole, to helpShenac and the little ones in the merry, healthful work. 

After this there were no more rainy days while the hay-time lasted. Shenac and Dan were not the first in all the concessions to finish thegetting in of the hay, but they were by no means the last. It was allgot in in a good state, too; and the grain-harvest began cheerfully andended successfully. Shenac took the lead in the cutting of the grain. 

In those days, in that part of the country, there were none of thosewonderful machines which now begin to make farm-work light. The horseswere used to draw the grain and hay to the barn or the stacks when itwas ready; but there were no patent rakes or mowing or reaping machinesfor them to draw. All the wheat, and a good deal of the other grain, was cut down with the old-fashioned hook or sickle, the reapers stoopinglow to their work. It was tedious and exhausting labour, and slow, too. Shenac's "faculty" and perfect health stood her in good stead at thiswork as at other things. She tired herself thoroughly every day, butshe was young and strong; and though the summer nights were short therewas no part of them lost to her, for she fell asleep the moment her headtouched the pillow. Even thoughts of the weary and suffering Hamish didnot often disturb her rest. She slept the dreamless sleep of perfecthealth till the dawn awakened her, cheerful and ready for another day'slabour. 

They had very little help for the harvest. There was one moonlight bee. They say the grain is more easily cut with the dew upon it; andmoonlight bees are common in Glengarry even now. But Shenac and herbrothers knew nothing of this one till, on going out in the morning, they found more than half of their wheat lying ready to be bound up insheaves. 

The rest of the harvest was very successful. Indeed, it was afavourable harvest everywhere that year. There was rejoicing throughall the township--through many town-ships; and even the most earthly andchurlish of the farmers assented with a good grace when a day ofthanksgiving was appointed, and kept it outwardly in appearance, if notinwardly with the heart. 

As for Shenac, it would be impossible to describe her triumph andthankfulness when the last sheaf was safely gathered in. For she wastruly thankful, though I am afraid her triumphant self-congratulationwent even beyond her thankfulness. Her thankfulness was not displayedin a way that made it apparent to others; but it filled her heart andgave her courage to look forward. It did more than this: it gave her aself-reliance quite unusual--indeed not very desirable--in one so young;and there was danger, all the greater because she was quite unconsciousof it, that it might degenerate into something different from an humbleyet earnest self-reliance. But there was nothing of that as yet, andall the little household rejoiced together. 

The spinning too had prospered. In the mornings and evenings, and onrainy days, the wheel had been busy; and now the yarn, dyed and ready, lay in the house of weaver McLean, waiting to be woven into heavy clothfor the boys; and the flannel for shirts and gowns would not be longbehind. So Shenac made a pause, and took time to breathe, as Hamishsaid. 

And, really, with a plentiful harvest gathered safely in, there seemedlittle danger of want; and Shenac's thoughts were more hopeful thananxious when she looked forward. The mother was more cheerful, too, than she had been since the father's death. She was always cheerfulnow, when matters went smoothly and regularly among them. It was onlywhen vexations arose, when Dan was restless or inclined to berebellious, or when the children stood in need of anything which theycould not get, or when she fancied that the affairs of the farm were notgoing on well, that she grieved over the past or fretted for thehome-coming of Allister. The little ones went to school again after theharvest--the little boys and Flora; and altogether matters seemed topromise to move smoothly on, and so the mother was content. 

There was one thing that troubled the mother and Shenac too. Theharvest-work had been hard on Hamish, and in the haste and eagerness ofthe busy time Shenac had not been so mindful of him as she might havebeen, and he suffered for it afterwards; and it grieved them all thathis voice should be so seldom heard as it was among them, for Hamishnever complained. The more he suffered, the more quiet he grew. It wasnot bodily pain alone with which he struggled on in silence. It wassomething harder to bear--a sense of helplessness and uselessness, afear of becoming a burden when there was so much to bear already. And, worse than even this, there was the knowledge that there lay no brightfuture before him, as there might lie before the rest. He must alwaysbe a helpless cripple. He could have no hope beyond the weary round ofsuffering which fell to his lot day by day. What the others did with awill, with a sense of power and pleasure, was a weariness to him. Therewere times when he wished that death might come and end it all; but henever spoke of himself, unless Shenac made him speak. His fits ofdepression did not occur often, and Shenac came at last to think it wasbetter to let them pass without notice; and, though her eye grew morewatchful and her voice more tender, she said nothing for a while, butwaited patiently for more cheerful days. 

CHAPTER EIGHT. 

I dislike to speak about the faults of Shenac. It would be farpleasanter to go on telling all that she did for her mother and brothersand little Flora--how her courage never failed, and her patience andtemper very seldom; and how the neighbours looked on with wonder andpleasure at all the young girl was able to accomplish by her sense andenergy, till they quite forgot that she was little more than a child--not sixteen when her father died--and spoke of her as a woman ofprudence and a credit to her family. She looked like a woman. She wastall and strong. She seemed, indeed, to have the health and strengthwhich should have fallen to her twin-brother Hamish; and she was growingto seem to all the neighbours much older than he. I suppose this changewould have come in any circumstances, after a while, for girls ofseventeen are generally more mature than boys of the same age; but thechange was more decided in Shenac because of the care that had fallen onher so early. Still, they were alike. They had the same golden-brownhair, though the brother's was of a darker shade, the same blue eyes, and frank, open brow. But the eyes of Hamish had a weary look, and hisbrow looked higher and broader because of the thin pale cheeks beneathit; and while he grew more quiet and retiring every day, no one couldhave been long in the house without seeing in many ways that Shenac wasthe ruling spirit there. 

It was right it should be so. It could not have been otherwise, for hermother was broken in health and spirits, and Allister was away. Hamishwas not able to take the lead in the labour, because of his lameness andhis feeble health; and though he had great influence in the familycouncils, it was exercised indirectly, by quiet, sensible words, and bya silent good example to the rest. 

As for Dan, his will was strong enough to command an army, and he had agreat deal of good sense hidden beneath a reckless manner; but he wastwo years younger than his sister--quite too young and inexperienced, even if he had been steady and industriously disposed, to take the lead. So of course the leadership fell upon Shenac. 

They all said, after a while--the neighbours, I mean--that it could nothave fallen into better hands; and, as far as the family affairs wereconcerned, that was true. But for Shenac herself it was not so well. It is never well to take girls quickly out of their childhood, and itwas especially bad for her to have so much the guidance of theseaffairs, for she naturally liked to lead--to have her own way; and, without being at all conscious of it, there were times when she grewsharp and arbitrary, expecting to be obeyed unquestioningly by them all. 

She was always gentle with the mother, who sometimes was desponding andirritable, and needed a great deal of patient attendance; but even withthe mother she liked to have her own way. Generally, Shenac's way wasthe best, to be sure; for the mother, weakened in mind and body, sawdifficulties in very trifling things, and fancied dangers and troubleswhere the bright, cheerful spirit of her daughter saw none. So, thoughshe yielded in word, she often in deed gave less heed to the mother'swishes than she ought to have done, and she was in danger, through this, of growing less lovable as the years went on. 

But a sadder thing happened to Shenac than this. In the eagerness withwhich she devoted herself to her work she forgot higher duties. Forthere is a higher duty than that which a child owes to parents andfriends--the duty owed to God. I do not mean that these are distinctand separate, or that they naturally and necessarily interfere with eachother. Quite the contrary. It is only as our duty to our Father inheaven is understood and acknowledged that any other duty can be well oracceptably performed. And so, in forgetting God, Shenac was in dangerof allowing her work to become a snare to her. 

Humbly acknowledging God in all her ways, asking and expecting andwaiting for his blessing in all that she undertook, she would hardlyhave grown unduly anxious or arbitrary or heedless of her mother's wishand will. Conscious of her own weakness, and leaning on eternalstrength, she would hardly have grown proud with success, or sinfullyimpatient when her will was crossed. 

But in those long, busy summer days, Shenac said to herself she had notime to think of other things than the work which each day brought. They had worship always, morning and evening, whatever the hurry mightbe. The Scriptures were read and a psalm was sung, and then the motheror Hamish offered a few words of prayer. They would as soon havethought of going without their morning and evening meals as withoutworship. It would have been a godless and graceless house, indeed, without that, in the opinion of those who had been accustomed to familyworship all their lives. 

Shenac was not often consciously impatient of the time it took, and hervoice was clearest and sweetest always in their song of praise. But toooften it was her voice only that rose to Heaven. Her heart was full ofother things; her thoughts often wandered to the field or the dairy, even when the words of prayer or praise were on her lips. She lost thehabit of the few minutes' quiet reading of her Bible in the earlymorning, and also before she went to bed; and her prayers were brief andhurried, and sometimes they were forgotten altogether. She and Hamishhad always been fond of reading, and though few new books found theirway among them, they had gone over and over the old ones, liking themchiefly because of the long talks to which they gave rise between them. 

Many of their favourite books were religious, and various were thespeculations as to doctrine and duty into which they used to fall. There might have been some danger in this, had not a spirit of reverencefor God's authority been deep and strong within them. It was to theinfallible standard of the inspired volume that all things were brought. With what is written there all theories and opinions were compared, andreceived or rejected according as they agreed with or differed from thevoice of inspiration. I do not mean that they were always right intheir judgment, or that their speculations were not sometimes foolishand vain. But their spirit was right. They sought to know the truth, and, in a way, they helped each other to walk in it. 

But all this seemed past now. There was no time for reading or fortalking--at least Shenac had none. All day she was too busy, and atnight she was too weary. Even the long, quiet Sabbath-day was changed. Not that there was work done on that day, either within or without thehouse. I daresay there were many in the township who did not keep thelaw of the Sabbath rest in spirit; but there were none in those days whodid not keep it in letter, in appearance. In the fields, which throughthe week were the scenes of busy labour, on the Sabbath not a sound washeard save in the pastures--the lowing of the cattle and the bleating ofthe sheep. 

Few people made the labour of the week an excuse for turning the Sabbathinto a day of rest for the body only. The old hereditary respect forGod's day and house still prevailed among them, and the great, grey, barn-like house of worship, which had been among the first built in thesettlement, was always filled to overflowing with a grave and reverentcongregation. 

But among them, during all that long summer, Shenac was seldom seen. Her mother went when it was not too warm to walk the long three milesthat lay between their house and the kirk, or when she got a seat in aneighbour's waggon; and Hamish and Dan were seldom away. But Shenac asseldom went. 

"What is the use of going?" she said, in answer to her mother'sexpostulations, "when I fall asleep the moment the text is given out. It's easy to say I should pay attention to the sermon. The minister'svoice would put me to sleep if I were standing at the wheel. Sometimesit takes the sound of the water, and sometimes of the wind; but it'shush-a-by that it says to me all the time. And, mother, I think it's ashame to sleep in the kirk, like old Donald or Elspat Smith. Somebodymust stay at home, and it may as well be me. "

I daresay it was not altogether the fault of the minister that Shenacfell asleep, though his voice was a drowsy drone to many a one besidesher. The week's activity was quite sufficient to account for herdrowsiness, to say nothing of the bright sunshine streaming in throughten uncurtained windows, and the air growing heavy with the breathing ofa multitude. Shenac tried stoutly, once and again; but it would not do. The very earnestness with which she fixed her eyes on the kindly, inanimate face of the minister hastened the slumber; and, touched by hermother or Hamish, she would waken to see two or three pairs of laughingeyes fastened upon her. Indeed she did think it a shame; but it was ahard struggle listening to words which bore little interest, scarcely ameaning, to her. So she stayed at home, and made the Sabbath-day a dayof rest literally; for as soon as the others were away, and her lighthousehold tasks finished, she took her book and fell asleep, as surely, and far more comfortably, than she did when she went to the kirk; sothat, as a day in which to grow wiser and better, the Sabbath was lostto Shenac. 

She was by no means satisfied with herself because of this, for in herheart she did not believe her weariness was a sufficient excuse forstaying away from the kirk; so whenever there was a meeting of any sortin the school-house, which happened once a month generally, Shenac wassure to be there. It was close by, and it was in the evening, and shecould take Flora and her little brothers, who could seldom go so far asthe kirk. 

"Shenac, " said her cousin one day, "why were you not at the kirk lastSabbath? Such a fine day as it was; and to think of your letting Hamishgo by himself!"

"He did not go by himself; Dan went with him, and you came home withhim. And I did go to the kirk--at least I went to the school-house, where old Mr Forbes preached, " said Shenac. 

"Toch!" exclaimed Shenac Dhu scornfully; "do you call _that_ going tothe kirk? Yon poor old body--do you call _him_ a minister? They say heused to make shoes at home. I'm amazed at you, Shenac! you that's heldup to the rest of us as a woman of sense!"

Shenac Bhan laughed. 

"Oh, as to his making shoes, you mind Paul made tents; and his sermonsare just like other folk's sermons: I see no difference. "

"The texts are like other folk's, you mean, " said Shenac Dhu slyly. "Idaresay you take a nap when he's preaching. "

"No, " said Shenac Bhan, not at all offended; "that's just thedifference. I never sleep in the school-house. I suppose because it'scool, and I have a sleep before I go, " she added candidly. "But as forthe sermons, they are just like other folk's. "

"But that is nonsense, " said Shenac Dhu. "He's just a common man, anddoes not even preach in Gaelic. "

"But our Shenac would say Paul did not do that, nor Dr Chalmers, norplenty more, " said Hamish, laughing. 

"Hamish, " said Shenac Dhu severely, "don't encourage her in what iswrong. Elder McMillan says it's wrong to go, and so does my father. They don't even sing the Psalms, they say. "

"That's nonsense, at any rate, " said Shenac Bhan. "The very lastSabbath they sang, --

 "`I to the hills will lift mine eyes. '

"You can tell the elder that, and your father, if it will be anyconsolation to them. "

"Our Shenac sang it, " said little Hugh. "John Keith wasn't there, andthe minister himself began the tune of Dundee. You should have heardhim when he came to the high part. "

"I've heard him, " said Shenac Dhu; and she raised her voice in a shrill, broken quaver, that made them all laugh, though Shenac Bhan wasindignant too, and bade her cousin mind about the bears that tore themocking children. 

"But our Shenac sang it after, and me and little Flora, " continued Hugh. "And, Shenac, what was it that the minister said afterwards about thenew song?"

But Shenac would have no more said about it. She cared very little forShenac Dhu's opinion, or for her father's either. She went to theschool whenever the old man held a meeting there, and took the childrenwith her. It was a great deal less trouble than taking them all so faras to the kirk, she told her mother; and whatever the elder and AngusDhu might say, the old man's sermons were just like other folk'ssermons. 

About this time there came a letter from Allister. The tidings of hisfather's death had reached him just as he was about to start for themining district with his cousin and others; he had entered intoengagements which made it necessary for him to go with them, --or hethought so. He said he would return home as soon as possible; but forthe sake of all there he must not come till he had at least got goldenough to pay the debt, so that he might start fair. He could not, atso great a distance, advise his mother what to do; but he knew she hadkind friends and neighbours, who would not let things go wrong till hecame home, which would be at the earliest possible day. In themeantime, he sent some money--not much, but all he had--and he beggedhis mother to keep her courage up, for the sake of the children withher, and for his sake who was far away. 

This letter had been so long in coming, that somehow they had falleninto the way of thinking that there would be no letter, but thatAllister must be on his way; so, when Shenac got it, it was with manydoubts and fears that she carried it home to her mother. She dreadedthe effect this disappointment might have on her in her enfeebled state, and shrank in dismay from a renewal of the scenes that had followed herfather's death and the burning of the house. 

But she need not have feared. It was indeed a disappointment to themother that the coming home of her son must be delayed, and she grievedfor a day or two. But everything went on just as usual, and graduallyshe settled down contentedly to her spinning and knitting again; and youmay be sure that whatever troubles fell to the lot of Shenac, she didnot suffer her mother to be worried by them. 

And Shenac had many anxieties about this time. Of course she had nonepeculiar to herself; that is, she had none which were not shared byHamish, and in a certain sense by Dan. But Hamish would have beencontent with moderate things. Just to rub on as quietly and easily aspossible till Allister came home, was all he thought they should try todo. And as for Dan, the future and its troubles lay very lightly onhim. 

But with Shenac it was different. That the hay and grain were safely inwas by no means enough to satisfy her. If Allister had been comingsoon, it might have been; but now there was the fall ploughing, and thesowing of the wheat, and the flax must be broken and dressed, and thewinter's wood must be got up, and there were fifty other things thatought to be done before the snow came. There was far more to do thancould be done by herself, or she would not have fretted. But whenHamish told her to "take no thought for the morrow, " and that she oughtto trust as well as work, she lost patience with him. And when Danquoted Angus Dhu, and spoke vaguely of what must be done in the spring, quite losing sight of what lay ready at his hand to do, she nearly lostpatience with him too. Not quite, though. It was a perilous experimentto try on Dan--a boy who might be led, but who would not be driven; andmany a time Shenac wearied herself with efforts so to arrange mattersthat what fell to Dan to do might seem to be his own proposal, and manya time he was suffered to do things in his own way, though his way wasnot always the best, because otherwise there was some danger that hewould not do them at all. 

Not that Dan was a bad boy, or very wilful, considering all things. Buthe was approaching the age when boys are supposed to see very clearlytheir masculine superiority; and to be directed by a woman how to do aman's work was more than a man could stand. 

If he could have been trusted, Shenac thought, she would gladly havegiven up to him the guidance of affairs, and put herself at his disposalto be directed. Perhaps she was mistaken in this. She enjoyed theleadership. She enjoyed encountering and conquering difficulties. Sheenjoyed astonishing (and, as she thought, disappointing) Angus Dhu; andthough she would have scorned the thought, she enjoyed the knowledgethat all the neighbours saw and wondered at, and gave her the credit of, the successful summer's work. 

But her being willing or unwilling made no difference. Dan was not oldenough nor wise enough to be trusted with the management. The burden ofcare must fall on her, and the burden of labour too; and she set herselfto the task with more intentness than ever when the letter came sayingthat Allister was not coming home. 

CHAPTER NINE. 

It was a bright day in the end of September. Shenac had been busy atthe wheel all the morning, but the very last thread of their flannel wasspun now. The wheel was put away, and Shenac stood before her mother, dressed in her black gown made for mourning when her father died. Hermother looked surprised, for this gown was never worn except at church, or when a visit was to be made. 

"Mother, " said Shenac, "I have made ready the children's supper, andfilled the sacks in case Dan should want to go to the mill, and I wantto go over to see if Shenac and Maggie can come some day to help me withthe flax. "

The mother assented, well pleased, for it was a long time since Shenachad gone to the house of Angus Dhu of her own will. 

"And, mother, maybe I'll go with Shenac as far as The Eleventh. It's along time since I have seen Mary Matheson, and I'll be home beforedark. "

"Well, well, go surely, if you like, " said her mother; "and you mightspeak to McLean about the flannel, and bespeak McCallum the tailor tocome as soon as he can to make the lads' clothes; and you might askabout the shoes. "

"Yes, mother, I'll mind them all. I'll just speak to Hamish first, andthen I'll away. "

Hamish was in the garden digging and smoothing the ground where theirsummer's potatoes had grown, because he had nothing else to do, he said, and it would be so much done before the spring. Shenac seated herselfon the fence, and began pulling, one by one, the brown oak leaves thathung low over it. There was no gate to the garden. It was doubtfulwhether a gate could have been made with sufficient strength, orfastened with sufficient ingenuity, to prevent the incursions of thepigs and calves, which, now that the fields were clear from grain, werepermitted to wander over them at their will. So the garden was enteredby a sort of stile--a board was placed with one end on the ground, andthe other on the middle rail of the fence--and it was on this thatShenac sat down. 

"Hamish, " she said after a little, "what do you think of my asking JohnFirinn to plough the land for the wheat--and to sow it too, for thatmatter?"

"I don't think you had better call him by _that_ name, if you want himto do you a favour, " said Hamish, laughing. "But why ask John Firinn ofall the folk in the world?"

("Firinn" is the Gaelic name for "truth, " and it was added to the nameof one of the many John McDonalds of the neighbourhood; not, I am sorryto say, because he always spoke the truth, but because he did not. )

Shenac laughed. 

"No; it's not likely. But I'm doing it for him because his wife hasbeen sick all the summer, and has not a thread of her wool spun yet, andI am going to change work with them. "

"But, Shenac, " said Hamish gravely, "does our mother know? I am sureshe will think you have enough to do at home, without going to spin atJohn Firinn's. "

"I should not go there, of course; they must let me bring the wool home. And there's no use in telling my mother till I see whether they'llagree. It would only vex her. And, Hamish, it's all nonsense about myhaving too much to do. There's only the potatoes; and Hugh can bide athome from the school to gather them and the turnips, and Dan will be aswell pleased if I leave them to him. I am only afraid that he has beenfancying he is to plough, and he's not fit for it. "

"No, he's not fit for it, " said Hamish. "But I don't like John Firinn. Is there no one else?"

"No; for if we speak to the Camerons or Angus Dhu, it will just be thesame as saying we want them to make a bee. I hate bees, --for us, Imean. It was well enough when they all thought it was just for thesummer, and that then Allister would be home. But now we must do asother folk do, and be independent. So I must speak to John. He's notvery trustworthy, I'm afraid; but that's maybe because few trust him. Idon't think he'll wrong my mother, if he promises to do the land. "

"Perhaps you are right, Shenac, " said Hamish with a sigh. 

"But, Hamish, " said Shenac eagerly, "_you_ could not do this work, evenif you were well and strong. " She was not answering his words, but thethoughts which she knew were in his heart. "Come with me, Hamish. Itwill do you good, and it would be far better for you to make a bargainwith John Firinn than for me. Shenac yonder is going. Come with us, Hamish. "

"No, " said Hamish. "The children are at the school, and maybe Dan willgo to the mill; and my mother must not be left alone. And you are theone to make the bargain about the spinning. I don't believe John willbe hard upon you; and if you are shamefaced, Shenac yonder will speakfor you. "

But Shenac did not intend her cousin to know anything about the mattertill it should be settled, though she did not tell her brother so. Shewent away a little anxious and uncertain. For though she had been themain dependence all summer for the work both in the house and in thefield, she had had very little to do with other people; and her heartfailed her at the thought of speaking to any one about their affairs, especially to John Firinn. So it was with a slow step and a troubledface that she took her way over the field to find her cousin. 

She had been a little doubtful all day whether she should find Shenac athome and at liberty to go with her, but she never thought of findingShenac's father there. They were rolling--that is, clearing off--thefelled trees in Angus Dhu's farther field, she knew, and Shenac might bethere, and she thought that her father must be. She had not met AngusDhu face to face fairly since that May-day by the creek; that is, shehad never seen him unless some one else was present, and the thought ofdoing so was not at all pleasant to her. So when, on turning thecorner, she saw his tall and slightly-bent figure moving towards her, inher first surprise and dismay she had some thoughts of turning andrunning away. She did not, however, but came straight on up the path. 

"I was not sure it was you, Shenac, " was her uncle's greeting; "you areseen here so rarely. It must be something more than common that bringsyou from home to-day, you have grown such a busy woman. "

"I came for Cousin Shenac to go with me to Mary Matheson's, if she canbe spared. Is she at home to-day?" said Shenac, with some hesitation, for she would far rather have made her request to Shenac's mother. 

"Oh yes, she's at home. Go into the house. I daresay her mother willspare her. " And he repeated a Gaelic proverb, which being translatedinto English would mean something like, "All work and no play makes Jacka dull boy. " Shenac smiled to herself as she thought of her mother'smany messages and her dreaded mission to John Firinn. It did not seemmuch like play to her. 

But burdens have a way of slipping easily from young shoulders, and thetwo Shenacs went on their way cheerily enough, and I daresay a strangermeeting them might have fancied that our Shenac was the lighter-heartedof the two. The cloud fell again, however, when they came to the turnof the road that took them to Mary Matheson's. 

"I have to go down to the McDonalds', Shenac. Just go on, and I willfollow you in two or three minutes. "

"To the McDonalds'!" repeated Shenac Dhu. "Not to John Firinn's surely?What in all the world can you have to do with him? You had better takeme with you, Shenac. They say John has a trick of forgetting thingssometimes. You might need me for a witness. "

Shenac Bhan laughed and shook her head. 

"There's no need. Go on to Mary's, and tell her I am coming. I shallnot be long. "

She wished heartily that Hamish had been with her, or that she couldhave honestly said her mother had sent her; for it seemed to her thatshe was taking too much upon her to be trying to make a bargain with aman like John Firinn. There was no help for it now, however, and sheknocked at the door, and then lifted the latch and went in with all thecourage she could summon. 

She did not need her courage for a little time, however; but her tactand skill in various matters--her "faculty, " as Mr Rugg called it--stood her in good stead for the next half-hour. 

Seated on a low chair, looking ill and harassed, was poor Mrs McDonald, with a little wailing baby on her knee, and her other little onesclustering round her, while her husband, the formidable John himself, was doing his best to prepare dinner for all of them. It was long pastdinner-time, and it promised to be longer still before these littlehungry mouths would be stopped by the food their father was attemptingto prepare. For he was unaccustomed and inexpert, and it must haveadded greatly to the sufferings of his wife to see his blunderingmovements, undoing with one hand what he did with the other, and usinghis great strength where only a little skill was needed. Shenachesitated a moment, and then advanced to Mrs McDonald. 

"Are you no better? Can I do anything for you?--Let me do that, " sheadded hastily, as she saw the success of the dinner put in jeopardy byan awkward movement of the incompetent cook. In another moment Shenac'sblack dress was pinned up, and soon the dinner was on the table, and thefather and children were seated at it. To her husband's entreaty thatshe would try and eat something, the poor woman did not yield. She wasflushed and feverish, and evidently in great pain. 

"I am afraid you are in pain, " said Shenac, as she turned to her, offering to take the baby. 

"Yes; I let my sister go home too soon, and what with one thing andanother, I am nearly as bad as ever again. " And she pressed her hand onher breast as she spoke. 

A few more words told the state of the case, and in a little time thepain was relieved by a warm application, and the weary woman lay down torest. Then there was some porridge made for the baby. Unsuitable foodit seemed, but the little creature ate it hungrily, and was soon asleep. Then the kettle was boiled, and the poor woman surprised herself anddelighted Shenac by drinking a cup of tea and eating a bit of toastedbread with relish. Then her hands and face were bathed, and her capstraightened, and she declared herself to be much better, as indeed itwas easy to see she was. Then Shenac cleared the dinner-things away andswept the hearth, the husband and wife looking on. 

When all this was done, Shenac did not think it needed so much courageto make her proposal about the change of work. Mrs McDonald lookedanxiously at her husband, who had listened without speaking. 

"I think I could spin it to please you, " said Shenac. "My mother ispleased with ours, though she did not like the big wheel at first; andyou can speak to weaver McLean. I don't think he has had much troublewith the weaving. I would do my best. "

"Could you come here and do it?" asked John. "Because, if you could, itwould be worth while doing the ploughing just to see you round, letalone the wool. "

Shenac shook her head. She was quite too much in earnest to notice theimplied compliment. 

"No; that would be impossible. I could not be away from home. Mymother could not spare me. She is not so strong as she used to be. ButI would soon do it at home. Our work is mostly over now. Our land doesmuch the best with the fall wheat, and the wheat is our maindependence. "

"I'm rather behind with my own work, " began John; "and I heard somethingsaid about the Camerons doing your field, with some help. "

"Oh, a bee, " said Shenac. "But that is just what I will not have. Idon't want to seem ungrateful. All the neighbours have been very kind, "she added humbly. "But now that Allister is not coming home, we mustcarry on the place by ourselves, or give it up. We must not beexpecting too much from our neighbours, or they will tire of us. And Idon't want a bee; though everybody has been very kind to us in ourtrouble. "

She was getting anxious and excited. 

"Bees are well enough in their way, " said Mrs McDonald. "And some ofthe neighbours were saying they would gather one to help me with thewool. But, John, man, if you could do this for the widow Macivor, Iwould far rather let Shenac do the wool. "

"I would do it well, " said Shenac. "I would begin to-morrow. "

"But if you were to do the wool, and then something was to happen that Icould not plough or sow the field, what then?" asked John gravely. 

Shenac looked at him, but said nothing. 

"What could happen, John, man?" said his wife. 

"We could have it written down, however, " said John, "and that wouldkeep us to our bargain. Should we have it written down, Shenac?"

"If you like, " said Shenac gravely; "but there is no need. I wouldbegin the wool to-morrow, and do it as soon as I could. "

"Oh ay, oh ay! but you might need the bit of writing to bind _me_, Shenac, my wise woman. I might slip out of it when the wool was done. "

"John, man!" remonstrated his wife. 

"You would never do that, " said Shenac quietly. "If you wished to doit, a paper would not hold you to it. I don't see the use of a writing;but if you want one I don't care, of course. "

But neither did John care, and so they made the bargain. John was tocharge the widow a certain sum for the work to be done, and Shenac wasto be allowed the usual price for a day's work of spinning; and it wasthought that when the wool was spun and the field ploughed and sowed, they would be about even. There might be a little due on one side orthe other, but it would not be much. 

"Well then, it's all settled, " said Shenac, and she did not attempt toconceal her satisfaction. 

It came into John's mind that being settled was one thing and being donewas quite another; but he did not say so. He said to himself, as he sawShenac busy about his wife and child, --

"If there is a way to put that wheat in better than wheat was ever putin before, I shall find it out and do it. "

He said the same to his wife, as together they watched her running downthe road to meet Shenac Dhu. 

"What in the world kept you so long?" asked her cousin. "Have you beenhearkening to one of John Firinn's stories? Better not tell it again. What made you bide so long?"

"Do you know how ill the wife has been?" asked Shenac Bhan. Then shetold how she found the poor woman suffering, and about the children andtheir dinner, and so was spared the necessity of telling what herbusiness with John had been. 

Greatly to the surprise of Angus Dhu and all the neighbours, in due timeJohn McDonald brought his team into the widow Macivor's field. Manywere the prophecies brought by Dan to Hamish and Shenac as to the littlelikelihood there was of his doing the work to the satisfaction of allconcerned. 

"It will serve you right too, Shenac, " said the indignant Dan. "Tothink of a girl like you fancying you could make a bargain with a manlike John Firinn!"

"Is it Angus Dhu that is concerned, and the Camerons?" asked Shenac. "It's a pity they shouldn't be satisfied. But if the work is done toplease the mother and Hamish and me, they'll need to content themselves, I doubt, Dannie, my lad. "

"Johnnie Cameron said they were just going to call a bee together and doit up in a day or two; and then it would have been done right, and youwould have been saved three weeks' spinning besides. "

"We're obliged to the Camerons all the same, " said Shenac a littlesharply. "But if it had needed six weeks' spinning instead of three, itwould please me better to do it than to trouble the Camerons or anybody. Why should we need help more than other folk?" she added impatiently. "I'm ashamed of you, Dan, with your bees. "

"Well, I'll tell them what you say, and you'll not be troubled withtheir offers again, I can tell you, " said Dan sulkily. 

"You'll do nothing of the kind, " said Hamish. "Nonsense, Dan, my lad;Shenac is right, and she's wrong too. She's right in thinking the lesshelp we need the better; but she should not speak as though she did notthank the neighbours for their wishing to help us. "

"Oh, I'm very thankful, " said Shenac, dropping a mocking courtesy toDan. "But I'm not half so thankful for their help as I am for thechance to spin John Firinn's wool. And Dan can tell the Camerons whathe likes. I'm not caring; only don't let us hear any more of their beesand their prophecies. "

Lightly as Shenac spoke of the spinning of the wool, it was no lightwork to do. For her mother was not pleased that she had undertaken itwithout her knowledge and consent, and fretted, and cast difficulties inthe way, till Shenac, more harassed and unhappy than she had ever beenbefore, offered to break the bargain and send back the wool. Her motherdid not insist on this, however, and Shenac span on in the midst of hermurmurings. Then Hamish took the mother away to visit her sister in thenext township, and during their absence Shenac kept little Flora awayfrom the school to do such little things as she could do about thehouse, and finished the wool by doing six days' work in three, and thenconfessed to Dan in confidence, that she was as tired as she ever wishedto be. 

She need not have hurried so much, for mother came home quite reconciledto the spinning--indeed a little proud of all that had been said inShenac's praise when the matter was laid before the friends they hadbeen to see. So she said, as Mrs McDonald was far from well yet, shewould dye her worsted for her; and Shenac was glad to rest herself withthe pleasant three miles' walk to give the message and get directions. 

Shenac's part of the bargain was fulfilled in spirit and letter; andcertainly nothing less could be said as to the part of John Firinn. Even Angus Dhu and John Cameron, who kept sharp eyes on him during hiswork, had no fault to find with the way in which it was done. It wasdone well and in the right time, and it was with satisfaction quiteinexpressible that Shenac looked over the smooth field and listened toher mother's congratulations that this was one good job well and timelydone. Ever after that she was John McDonald's fast friend, and thefriend of his sickly wife. No one ever ventured to speak adisrespectful word of John before her; and the successful sowing of thewheat-field was by no means the last piece of work he did, and did well, for the widow and her children. 

CHAPTER TEN. 

Winter set in early that year, but not too early for Shenac and herbrothers. The winter preparations had all been made before thedelightful stormy morning came, when Hugh and Colin and little Florachased one another round and round in the door-yard, making many pathsin the new-fallen snow. The house had been banked up with earth, andevery crack and crevice in the roof and walls closed. The garden hadbeen dug and smoothed as if the seeds were to be sown the next day. Thebarn and stable were in perfect order. The arrangements for tying upoxen and cows, which are always sure to get out of order in summer, hadbeen made anew, and the farming-tools gathered safely under cover. 

These may seem little things; but the comfort of many a household hasbeen interfered with because such little things have been neglected. What may be done at any time is very often left till the right time ispast, and disorder and discomfort are sure to follow. I daresay theearly snow fell that year on many a plough left in the furrow, and onmany a hoe and spade left in garden or yard. But all was as it shouldbe at Mrs Macivor's. 

In summer, when a long day's work in the field was the order of things, when those who were strong and able were always busy, it seemed toHamish that he was of little use. This was a mistake of his. He was ofgreat use in many ways, even when he went to the field late and left itearly; for though Shenac took the lead in work and planning, she wasnever sure that her plans were wise, or even practicable, till she hadtalked them over with Hamish. She would have lost patience with Dan andthe rest, and with her mother even, if she had not had Hamish to "emptyher heart to. " But even Shenac, though she loved her brother dearly, and valued his counsels and sympathy as something which she could nothave lived and laboured without--even she did not realise how much oftheir comfort depended on the work of his weak hands. It was Hamish whobanked the house and made the garden; it was he who drove nails andfilled cracks, who gathered up tools and preserved seeds, quietly doingwhat others did not do and remembering what others forgot. It wasHamish who cared for the creatures about the place; it was he who madeand mended and kept in order many things which it would have cost moneyto get or much inconvenience to go without. So it may be said that itwas owing to Hamish that the early snow did not find them unprepared. 

A grave matter was under discussion within-doors that morning whilelittle Flora and her brothers were chasing each other through the snow. It was whether Dan was to go to the school that winter. It was seldomthat any but young children could go to school in the summer-time, thehelp of the elder ones being needed in the field as soon as they wereold enough to help. But in the winter few young people thoughtthemselves too old to go to school while the teacher could carry themon. Hamish and Shenac had gone up to the time of their father's death. But as for Dan, he thought himself old enough now to have done withschool. He had never been, in country phrase, "a good scholar?"--thatis, he had never taken kindly to his books--a circumstance which seemedalmost like disgrace in the eyes of Shenac; and she was very desirousthat he should get the good of this winter, especially as they were tohave a new teacher, whose fame had preceded him. Dan was taking it forgranted that he was the mainstay at home, and that for him school wasout of the question. But the rest thought differently; and it wasdecided, much to his discontent, that when the winter's wood wasbrought, to school he must go. 

Great was his disgust--so great that he began to talk about going to thewoods with the lumberers; at which Shenac laughed, but Hamish lookedgrave, and bade him think twice before he gave his mother so sore aheart as such a word as that would do. Dan did think twice, and saidnothing more about the woods. His going to school, however, did not dohim much good in the way of learning, but it did in the way ofdiscipline. At any rate, it left him less idle time than he wouldotherwise have had; and though his boyish mischief vexed Shenac often, things might have been worse with Dan, as Hamish said, and little harmwas done. 

Winter is a pleasant time in a country farm-house. In our country thesummers are so short, and so much work must be crowded into them, thatthere is little time for any enjoyment, save that of doing well what isto be done, and watching the successful issue. But in winter there isleisure--leisure for enjoyment of various kinds, visiting, sewing, singing; and it is generally made the most of. 

As for Shenac, the feeling that all the summer's work was successfullyended, that the farm-products were safely housed beyond loss, gave her asense of being at leisure, though her hands were full of work, and wouldbe for a long time yet. The fulled cloth and the flannel came home. The tailor came for a week to make the lads' clothes, and she helped himwith them; and tailor McCallum, though as a general thing rathercontemptuous of woman's help, acknowledged that she helped him topurpose. 

A great deal may be learned by one who begins by thinking nothing toodifficult to learn; and Shenac's stitching and button-holes weresomething to wonder at before the tailor's visit was over. 

Then came Katie Matheson to help with the new gowns. Shenac feltherself quite equal to these, but, as Shenac Dhu insisted, "Katie hadbeen at M--- within the year, and knew the fashions;" so Katie came fora day or two. Of this wish to follow the fashion, the mother wasinclined to speak severely; for what had young folk with their bread towin to do with the fashions of the idle people of the world? But eventhe mother did not object to following them when she found the wide, useless sleeves, so much sought after by foolish young girls, givingplace to the small coat-sleeves which had been considered the thing inher own and her mother's youth. They were, as she said, far moresensible-like, and a saving besides. The additional width which Katiequietly appropriated to Shenac's skirt would have been declared a pieceof sinful extravagance, if the mother had known of it before Shenac wasturning round, from one to another, to be admired with the new dress on. She did cry out at the length. Why the stocking could only just beseen above the shoe tied round the slender ankle! There was surely nocall to waste good cloth by making the skirt so long. "Never mind, "said Katie: "Flora's should be all the shorter;" and by that meanslittle Flora was in the fashion too. 

I daresay Shenac's pleasure in her new dress might have awakenedamusement, perhaps contempt, among young people to whom new dresses arenot so rare a luxury. But never a young belle of them all could havethe same right to take pleasure and pride in silk or satin as Shenac hadto be proud of her simple shepherd's plaid. She had shorn the wool, andspun and dyed it with her own hands. She had made it too, with Katie'shelp; and never was pleasure more innocent or more unmixed than hers, asshe stood challenging admiration for it from them all. 

Indeed, both the dress and the wearer might have successfully challengedadmiration from a larger and less interested circle than that--at least, so thought the new master, who came in with Hamish while the affair wasin progress. He had seen prettier faces, and nicer dresses too, it isto be supposed; but he had certainly never seen anything prettier ornicer than Shenac's innocent pride and delight in her own handiwork. 

Shenac Dhu gave the whole a finishing touch as she drew round hercousin's not very slender waist a black band fastened with a silverclasp--an heirloom in the family since the time that the Macivors usedto wear the Highland garb among their native hills. 

"Now walk away and let us see you, " said she, giving her a gentle push. 

Shenac minced and swung her skirts as she moved, as little children dowhen they are playing "fine ladies. " Even her mother could not helplaughing, it was so unlike the busy, anxious Shenac of the last fewmonths. 

"Is she not a vain creature?" said Shenac Dhu. "No wonder that you lookat her that way, Hamish, lad. "

The eyes of Hamish shone with pride and pleasure as they followed hissister. 

"Next year I'll weave it myself, " said Shenac, coming back again. "Youneed not laugh, Shenac Dhu. You'll see. "

"Yes, I daresay. And where will you get your loom?" And Shenac Dhu putup both hands and made-believe to cut her hair. Shenac Bhan shook herhead at her. 

"I can learn to weave; you'll see. Anybody can learn anything if theytry, " said Shenac. 

"Except the binomial theorem, " said Hamish, laughing. 

His sister shook her head at him too. Charmed with the "new kind ofarithmetic" which Mr Rugg had brought, yet not enjoying any pleasure tothe full unless his sister enjoyed it with him, Hamish had tried tobeguile her into giving her spare hours to the study. But Shenac's mindwas occupied with other things, and, rather scornful of labour whichseemed to come to nothing, she had given little heed to it. 

"I could learn that too, but what would be the good of it?" askedShenac. 

"Ask the master, " said Hamish. 

"Well?" said Shenac, turning to Mr Stewart. 

"Do you mean what is the good of algebra, or what would be the good ofit to you?" asked Mr Stewart. 

"What would be the good of it to me? I can never have any use for thelike of that. "

"The discipline of learning it might be good for you, " said Mr Stewart. "I once heard a lady say that her knowledge of Euclid had helped her tocut and make her children's clothes. "

Shenac laughed. 

"I daresay Katie here could have taught her more about it with lesstrouble. "

"I daresay you are right, " said the master. "And the discipline of thewheel and the loom, and of household care, may be far better than thediscipline of study to prepare you for life and what it may bring you. I am sure this gown, for instance, " he added, laying his finger on thesleeve, "has been worth far more to you already than the money it wouldbring. I mean the patience and energy expended on it will be of farmore value to you; for you know these good gifts, well bestowed, leavethe bestower all the richer for the giving. "

"I don't know how that may be, " said Shenac, "but I know I would ratherhave this gown of my own making than the prettiest one that Katie hasmade for twelve months. "

I do not know how I came to speak of the winter as a season of leisurein connection with Shenac, for this winter was a very busy time withher. True, her work did not press upon her, so as to make her anxiousor impatient, as it sometimes used to do in summer; but she was neveridle. There were sewing and housework and a little wool-spinning, andmuch knitting of stockings and mittens for them all. The knitting wasevening work, and, when Hamish was not reading aloud, Shenac's hands andeyes were busy with different matters. She read while she knitted, andenjoyed it greatly, much to her own surprise, for, as she told Hamish, she thought she had given up caring about anything but to work and toget on. 

They had more books than usual this winter, and more help to understandthem, so that instead of groping on alone, sometimes right and sometimeswrong, Hamish made great progress; and wherever Hamish was, Shenac wasnot far away. It was a very quiet winter in one way--there was not muchvisiting here and there. Hamish was not fit for that. Shenac wentwithout him sometimes now. She was young, and her mind being at ease, she took pleasure in the simple, innocent merry-makings of the place. She was content to leave Hamish when she did not have to leave himalone, which rarely happened now. The master lived in the house ofAngus Dhu, but it seemed that the humbler home of the widow and thecompany of Hamish suited him best, for scarcely two evenings passedwithout finding him there; and Shenac could go with a good heart, knowing that her brother was busy and happy at home. 

Afterwards, when changes came, and new anxieties and cares pressed uponher, Shenac used to look back on this winter as the happiest time of herlife. It was not merely that the summer's work had been successful, butthat the summer's success seemed to make all their future secure. Therewas no doubt now about their being able to keep together and carry onthe farm. That was settled. She was at rest--they were all at rest--about that. Their future did not depend now upon Allister's uncertaincoming home. It would not be true to say she saw no difficulties in theway; but she saw none to daunt her. Even Dan seemed to have come tohimself. He seemed to have forgotten his self-assertion--his"contrariness, " as Shenac called it--and was a boy again, noisy and fullof fun, but gentle and helpful too. The little ones were well andhappy, and getting on well in school, as all the Macivors were bound todo. The mother was comparatively well and cheerful. Her monotonousflax-spinning filled up the quiet, uneventful days, and, untroubled byout-door anxieties, she was content. 

But, in looking back over this happy time, it was to Hamish thatShenac's thoughts most naturally turned, for it was the happiness of hertwin-brother, more than all the rest put together, that made thehappiness of Shenac. And Hamish was happier, more like himself, thanever he had been since their troubles began. Not so merry, perhaps, asthe Hamish of the former days; but he was happy, that was sure. He wasfar from well, and he sometimes suffered a good deal; but his illnesswas not of a kind to alarm them for his life, and unless he had beenexposed in some way, or a sudden change of the weather brought on hisold rheumatic pains, he was, on the whole, comfortable in health. Butwhether he suffered or not, he was happy, that was easily seen. Therewas no sitting silent through the long gloamings now, no weary droopingof his head upon his hands, no wearier struggle to look up and join inthe household talk of the rest. There were no heart-sick broodings overhis own helplessness, no murmurings as to the burden he might yetbecome. He did not often speak of his happiness in words, just as hehad seldom spoken of his troubles; but every tone of his gentle voiceand every glance of his loving eye spoke to the heart of his sister, filling it with content for his sake. 

What was the cause of the change? what was the secret of her brother'speace? Shenac wondered and wondered. She knew it was through hisfriend, Mr Stewart, that her brother's life seemed changed; but, knowing this, she wondered none the less. What was his secret power?What could Hamish see in that plain, dark man, so grave and quiet, somuch older than he?

True, they had the common tie of a love of knowledge, and pored togetherover lines and figures and strange books as though they would never growweary of it all. It was true that, more than any one had ever donebefore, the master had opened new paths of knowledge to the eager lad--that by a few quiet words he put more life and heart into a subject thanothers could do by hours and hours of talk. But all these things Shenacshared and enjoyed without being able to understand how, through themaster, a new and peaceful influence seemed to have fallen on the lifeof Hamish. 

She did not grudge it to him. She was not jealous of the new interestthat had come to brighten her brother's life--at least at this time shewas not. Afterwards, when new cares and vexations pressed upon her, shevexed herself with the thought that something had come between herbrother and herself which made her troubles not so much his as they usedto be, and she blamed this new friendship for the difference. But nosuch thoughts vexed these first pleasant months. 

Hamish was indeed changed. Unrealised at first by himself, the mostwonderful change that can come between the cradle and the grave hadhappened to him. He had found a secret spring of peace, hidden as yetfrom his sister's eyes. He had obtained a staff to lean on, which madehis weakness stronger than her strength; and this had come to himthrough the master. There was a bond between the friends, stronger, sweeter, and more enduring than even that which united the twin brotherand sister--the BOND OF BROTHERHOOD IN CHRIST. On Norman Stewart hadbeen conferred the highest of all honours; to him had been given thechief of all happiness. Through _his_ voice the voice of Jesus hadspoken peace to a troubled soul. To him it had been given so to holdforth the word of life that to a soul sitting in darkness a great lightsprang up. 

I cannot tell you how it came about, except that the heart of the masterbeing full of love to Christ, it could not but overflow in loving wordsfrom his lips. Attracted first to Hamish by the patience and gentlenesswith which he suffered, he could not do otherwise than seek to lead himto the Great Healer; and his touch was life. Then all the shadows thathad darkened the past and the future to the lame boy fled away. Gradually all the untoward circumstances of his life seemed to adjustthemselves anew. His lameness, his suffering, his helplessness were nolonger parts of a mystery, darkening all the future to him, but parts ofa plan through which something better than a name and a place in theworld might be obtained. Little by little he came to know himself to beone of God's favoured ones; and then he would not have turned his handto win the lot that all his life had seemed the most desirable to him. Before his friend he saw such a life--a life of labour for the highestof all ends. Before himself he saw a life of suffering, a narrow sphereof action, helplessness, dependence; but he no longer murmured. He wascoming to know, through the new life given him, how that "to do God'swill is sweet, and to bear God's will is sweet--the one as sweet as theother, to those to whom he reveals himself;" and to have learned this isto rejoice for evermore. 

The master's term of office came to an end, and the friends were topart. It was June by this time; and when he had bidden all the restgoodbye, Mr Stewart lingered still with Hamish at the gate. Hamish hadsaid something about meeting again, and the master answered, --

"Yes, surely we shall meet again--if not here, yonder;" and he pointedupward. "We shall be true friends there, Hamish, bhodach; be sure ofthat. "

Tears that were not all sorrowful stood on the cheeks of Hamish, and helaid his face down on the master's shoulder without speaking. 

"Much may lie between us and that time, " continued the master--"much todo, and, it may be, much to suffer; but it is sure to come. "

"For me, too, " murmured Hamish. "They also serve who only wait. "

"Yes, " said the master; "they who wait are blessed. "

"And I shall thank God all my life that he sent you here to me, " saidHamish. 

"And I too, " said the master. "It seemed to me an untoward chanceindeed that turned me aside from the path I had chosen and sent me here, and the good Father has put my doubts and fears to shame, in that he hasgiven me you, and, through you, others, to be stars in my crown ofrejoicing against that day. God bless you! Farewell. "

"God bless you, and farewell, " echoed Hamish. 

So Mr Stewart went away, and Hamish watched till he was out of sight, and still stood long after that, till Shenac came to chide him forlingering out in the damp, and drew him in. She did not speak to him. There were tears on his cheek, she thought, and her own voice failedher. But when they came to the light the tears were gone, but the lookof peace that had rested on his face all these months rested on itstill. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN. 

The happy winter drew to an end, and spring came with some pleasures andmany cares. I am not going to tell all about what was done this springand summer; it would take too long. Shenac and her brother had not thesame eagerness and excitement in looking forward to the summer's workthat they had had the spring before; but they had some experience, andwere not afraid of failure. The spring work was well done, and withcomparatively little help. The garden was made, and the first crop ofweeds disposed of from some of the beds; and Shenac was beginning tolook forward to the little pause in outdoor work that was to give hertime for the wool again, when something happened. It was somethingwhich Shenac declared delighted her more than anything that had happenedfor a long time; and yet it filled her with dismay. An uncle, a brotherof their mother, who resided in the neighbourhood of the C--- Springs, celebrated for their beneficial effects on persons troubled withrheumatic complaints, sent for Hamish to pass the rest of the summer athis house. The invitation was urgent. Hamish would be sure to get muchbenefit from the use of the baths, and would return home before winter, a new man. 

Hamish alone hesitated; all the rest declared that he must go, and nonemore decidedly than Shenac. In the first delighted moment, she thoughtonly of the good that Hamish was to get, and not at all of how they wereto get on without him. She did not draw back when she thought of it, but worked night and day to get his things ready before the appointedtime. 

I do not know whether the union between twins is more tender andintimate than that between other brothers and sisters, but when Hamishwent away it seemed to Shenac that half her heart had gone with him. The house seemed desolate, the garden and fields forsaken. Her longingfor a sight of his face was unspeakable. 

All missed him. A strange silence seemed to fall upon the household. They had hardly missed the master, in the bustle that had preceded thegoing away of Hamish; but now they missed them both. The quiet grewirksome to Dan, and he used in the evenings to go elsewhere--to AngusDhu's or the Camerons'--thus leaving it all the quieter for the rest. The mother fretted a little for the lame boy, till a letter came tellingthat he had arrived safe and well, and not very tired; and then she wascontent. 

As for Shenac, she betook herself with more energy than ever to herwork. She did not leave herself time to be lonely. It was just thefirst moment of coming into the house and the sitting down at meals thatshe found unbearable. For the first few days her appetite quite failedher--a thing that had never happened within her memory before. But tryas she might, the food seemed to choke her. There was nothing for itbut to work, within doors or without, till she was too weary to stand, and then go to bed. 

And, indeed, there was plenty to do. Not too much, however, Shenacthought--though having the share of Hamish added to her own made a greatdifference. But she would not have minded the work if only Dan had beenreasonable. She had said to herself often, before Hamish went away, that she would be ten times more patient and watchful over herself thanever she had been before, and that Dan should have no excuse from herfor being wilful and idle. It had come into her mind of late that AngusDhu had not been far wrong when he said Dan was a wild lad, and she hadsaid as much to Hamish. But Hamish had warned her from meddling withDan. 

"You must trust him, and show that you trust him, Shenac, if you wouldget any good out of him. He is just at the age to be uneasy, and tohave plans and ways of his own, having no one to guide him. We musthave patience with Dan a while. "

"If patience would do it, " said Shenac sadly. 

But she made up her mind that, come what might, she would watch herwords and her actions too with double care till Hamish came home again. She was very patient with Dan, or she meant to be so; but she had agreat many things pressing on her at this time, and it vexed her beyondmeasure when he, through carelessness or indifference to her wishes, letthings intrusted to him go wrong. She had self-command enough almostalways to refrain from speaking while she was angry, but she could nothelp her vexed looks; and the manner in which she strove to mendmatters, by doing with her own hands what he had done imperfectly orneglected altogether, angered Dan far more than words could have done. 

They missed the peace-maker. Oh, how Shenac missed him in all thingswhere Dan was concerned! She had not realised before how great had beenthe influence of Hamish over his brother, or, indeed, over them all. Alaughing remark from Hamish would do more to put Dan right than anyamount of angry expostulation or silent forbearance from her. Oh, howshe missed him! How were they to get through harvest-time without him?

"Mother, " said Dan, as he came in to his dinner one day, "have you anymessage to The Sixteenth? I am going over to McLay's raisingto-morrow. "

"But, Dan, my lad, the barley is losing; and, for all that you could doat the putting up of the barn, it hardly seems worth your while to go sofar, " said his mother. 

Shenac had not come in yet, but Shenac Dhu, who had come over on amessage, was there. 

"Oh, I have settled that, mother. The Camerons and Sandy McMillan arecoming here in the morning. The barley will be all down by dinner-time, and they'll take their dinner here, and we'll go up together. "

"But, Dan, lad, they have barley of their own. What will Shenac say?Have you spoken to your sister about it?" asked his mother anxiously. 

"Oh, what about Shenac?" said Dan impatiently. "They will be glad tocome. What's a short forenoon to them? And I believe Shenac hates thesight of one and all. What's the use of speaking to her?"

"Did you tell them that when you asked them?" said Shenac Dhu dryly. 

"I haven't asked them yet, " said Dan. "But what would they care for agirl like Shenac, if I were to tell?"

"Try and see, " said Shenac Dhu. "You're a wise lad, Dan, about somethings. Do you think it's to oblige you that Sandy McMillan is hangingabout here and bothering folk with his bees and his bees? Why, he wouldgo fifty miles and back again, any day of his life, for one glance fromyour sister's eye. Don't fancy that folk are caring for _you_, lad. "

"Shenac Dhu, my dear, " said her aunt in a tone of vexation, "don't saysuch foolish things, and put nonsense into the head of a child like ourShenac. "

"Well, I won't, aunt; indeed I dare not, " said Shenac Dhu, laughing, asat that moment Shenac Bhan came in. 

"Shenac, what kept you?" said her mother fretfully. "Your dinner iscold. See, Dan has finished his. "

"I could not help it, mother, " said Shenac, sitting down. "It was thatSandy McMillan that hindered me. He offered to come and help us withthe barley. "

"And what did you say to him?" asked Shenac Dhu demurely. 

"Oh, I thanked him kindly, " said Shenac, with a shrug of her shoulders. 

"I must see him. Where is he, Shenac?" said Dan. "He must cometo-morrow, and the Camerons, and then we'll go to the raising together. Is he coming to-morrow?"

"No, " said Shenac sharply; "I told him their own barley was as like tosuffer for the want of cutting as ours. When we want him we'll send forhim. "

"But you did not anger him, Shenac, surely?" said her mother. 

"No; I don't think it. I'm not caring much whether I did or not, " saidShenac. 

"Anger him!" cried Dan. "You may be sure she did. She's as grand as ifshe were the first lady in the country. "

This was greeted by a burst of merry laughter from the two Shenacs. Even the mother laughed a little, it was so absurd a charge to bringagainst Shenac. Dan looked sheepishly from one to the other. 

"Well, it's not me that says it, " said Dan angrily; "plenty folk thinkthat of our Shenac. --And you had no business to tell him not to come, when I had spoken to him. "

"What will Sandy care for a girl like Shenac?" asked his cousinmockingly. 

"Well, _I_ care, " persisted Dan. "She's always interfering and havingher own way about things--and--"

"Whisht, Dan, lad, " pleaded the mother. 

"I didn't know that you had spoken to Sandy--not that it would have madeany difference, however, " added Shenac candidly. 

"And, Dan, you don't suppose any one will care for what a girl likeShenac Bhan may say. He'll come all the same to please you, " saidCousin Shenac. 

"Whether he comes or not, I'm going to McLay's raising, " said Danangrily. "Shenac's not _my_ mistress, yet a while. "

"Whisht, Dan; let's have no quarrelling, " pleaded the mother. --"Why doyou vex him?" she continued, as Dan rushed out of the room. 

"I did not mean to vex him, mother, " said Shenac gently. 

This was only one of many vexatious discussions that had troubled theirpeace during the summer. Sometimes Shenac's conscience acquitted her ofall blame; but, whether it did or not, she always felt that if Hamishhad been at home all this might have been prevented. She did not knowhow to help it. Sometimes her mother blamed her more than was quitefair for Dan's fits of wilfulness and idleness, and she longed forHamish to be at home again. 

Dan went to the raising, and, I daresay, was none the better for thecompanionship of the offended Sandy. Shenac stayed at home and workedat the barley till it grew dark. She even did something at it when themoon rose, after her mother had gone to bed; but she herself was in bedand asleep before Dan came, so there was nothing more said at that time. 

The harvest dragged a little, but they got through with it in areasonable time. There were more wet weather and more anxiety allthrough the season than there had been last year; but, on the whole, they had reason to be thankful that it had ended so well. Shenac was byno means so elated as she had been last year. She was very quiet andgrave, and in her heart she was beginning to ask herself whether AngusDhu might not have been right, and whether she might not have betterhelped her mother and all of them in some other way. They had only justraised enough on the farm to keep them through the year, and surely theymight have managed just to live with less difficulty. Even if Dan hadbeen as good and helpful as he ought to have been, it would not havemade much difference. 

Shenac would not confess it to herself, much less to any one else, butthe work of the summer had been a little too much for her strength andspirits. Her courage revived with a little rest and the sight of herbrother. He did not come back quite a new man, but he was a great dealbetter and stronger than he had been for years; and the delight ofseeing him go about free from pain chased away the half of Shenac'stroubles. Even Dan's freaks did not seem so serious to her now, and shemade up her mind to say as little as possible to Hamish about thevexations of the summer, and to think of nothing unpleasant now that shehad him at home again. 

But unpleasant things are not so easily set aside out of one's life, andShenac's vexations with Dan were not over. He was more industrious thanusual about this time, and worked at cutting and bringing up thewinter's wood with a zeal that made her doubly glad that she had saidlittle about their summer's troubles. He talked less and did more thanusual; and Hamish bade his mother and Shenac notice how quiet and manlyhe was growing, when he startled them all by a declaration that he wasgoing with the Camerons and some other lads to the lumbering, far up theGrand River. 

"I'm not going to the school. I would not, even if Mr Stewart werecoming back; and I am not needed at home, now that you are better, Hamish. You can do what is needed in the winter, so much of the wood isup; and, at any rate, I am going. "

Hamish entreated him to stay at home for his mother's sake, or to choosesome less dangerous occupation, if he must go away. 

"Dangerous! Nonsense, Hamish! Why should it be more dangerous to methan to the rest? I cannot be a child all my life to please my motherand Shenac. "

"No; that is true, " said Hamish; "but neither can you be a man all atonce to please yourself. You are neither old enough nor strong enoughfor such work as is done in the woods, whatever you may think. "

"There are younger lads going to the woods than I am, " muttered Dansulkily. 

"Yes; but they are not going to do men's work nor get men's wages. Ifyou are wise, you will bide at home. "

But all that Hamish could get from Dan was a promise that he would notgo, as he had first intended, without his mother's leave. This was noteasy to get, for the fate of Lewis might well fill the mother's heartwith terror for Dan, who was much younger than his brother had been. But she consented at last, and Shenac and Hamish set themselves to makethe best of Dan's going, for their mother's sake. 

"He'll be in safe keeping with the Camerons, mother, and it will do himgood to rough it a little. We'll have him back in the spring, more of aman and easier to do with, " said Hamish. 

But the mother was not easily comforted. Dan's going brought toovividly back the going of those who had never returned; and the motherfretted and pined for the lad, and murmured sometimes that, if Shenachad been more forbearing with him, he might not have wanted to go. Shedid not know how she hurt her daughter, or she never would have saidanything like that, for in her heart she knew that Shenac was not toblame for the waywardness of Dan. But Shenac did not defend herself, and the mother murmured on till the first letter came, saying that Danwas well and doing well, and then she was content. 

About this time they had a visit from their Uncle Allister, theirmother's brother, in whose house Hamish had passed the summer. Hebrought his two daughters--pretty, cheerful girls--who determinedbetween themselves, encouraged by Hamish, that they should carry offShenac for a month's visit when they went home. They succeeded too, though Shenac declared and believed it to be impossible that she shouldleave home, even up to the day before they went. The change did her agreat deal of good. She came back much more like the Shenac of twoyears ago than she had seemed for a long time; and, as spring drew on, she could look forward to the labours of another summer without themiserable misgivings that had so vexed her in the fall. Indeed, nowthat Hamish was well, whether Dan came home or not, she felt sure ofsuccess, and of a quiet and happy summer for them all. 

But before spring came something happened. There came a letter fromAllister--not this time to the mother, but to Angus Dhu. It told ofwonderful success which had followed his going to the gold country, andmade known to Angus Dhu that in a certain bank in the city of M--- hewould find a sum of money equal to all his father's debt, with interestup to the first day of May following, at which time he trusted that hewould give up all claim to the land that had been in his possession forthe last two years, according to the promise made to his father. He wascoming home soon, he added; he could not say just when. He meant tomake more money first, and then, if all things were to his mind, heshould settle down on his father's land and wander no more. 

It was also added, quite at the end of the paper, as though he had notintended to speak of it at first, that he had had nothing to do with thegoing away of his cousin, as he had heard the lad's father had supposed, but that he should do his best to bring him home again; "for, " he added, "it is not at all a happy life that folk must live in this golden land. "

To say that Angus Dhu was surprised when this letter came would not besaying enough. He was utterly amazed. He had often thought that whenAllister was tired of his wanderings in foreign lands he might wanderhome again and claim his share of what his father had left. But that hehad gone away and stayed away all this time for the purpose of redeemingthe land which his father had lost, he never for a moment supposed. Heeven now thought it must have been a fortunate chance that had given themoney first into Allister's hand and then into his own. He made up hismind at once that he should give up the land. It did not cost him halfas much to do so as it would have cost him two years ago not to get it. It had come into his mind more than once of late, as he had seen howwell able the widow's children were to manage their own affairs, thatthey might have been trusted to pay their father's debt in time; and, whatever his neighbours thought, he began to think himself that he hadbeen hard on his cousin. Of course he did not say so; but he made uphis mind to take the money and give up the land. 

And what words shall describe the joyful pride of Shenac? She did nottry to express it in words while Angus Dhu was there, but "her face andher sparkling eyes were a sight to behold, " as the old man afterwards inconfidence told his daughter Shenac. There were papers to be drawn upand exchanged, and a deal of business of one kind or another to besettled between the widow and Angus Dhu, and a deal of talk was needed, or at least expended, in the course of it; but in it Shenac took nopart. She placed entire reliance on the sense and prudence of Hamish, and she kept herself quite in the background through it all. 

She would not acknowledge to any one who congratulated her on Allister'ssuccess, that any surprise mingled with her pleasure; and once she tookShenac Dhu up sharply--gave her a down-setting, as that astonished youngwoman expressed it--because she did not take the coming of the moneyquite as a matter of course, and ventured to express a little surpriseas well as pleasure at the news. 

"And what is there surprising in it?" demanded Shenac Bhan. "Is ourAllister one whose well-doing need astonish any one? But I forgot. Heis not _your_ brother. You don't know our Allister, Shenac. "

"Don't I?" said Shenac Dhu, opening her black eyes a little wider thanusual. "Well, I don't wonder that you are proud of your brother. Butyou need not take a body up like that. I'm not surprised that he mindedyou all, and sent the money when he got it; but it is not, as a generalthing, the good, true hearts that get on in this world. I was aye surehe would come back, but I never thought of his being a rich man. "

Shenac Dhu sighed, as if she had been bemoaning his poverty. 

"She's thinking of Evan yonder, " said Shenac Bhan to herself. "OurAllister is not a rich man, " she said gravely. "He sent enough to paythe debt and the interest. There is a little over, because your fatherwon't take the interest for the last two years, having had the land. But our Allister is not rich. "

"But he means to be rich before he comes home, " persisted Shenac Dhu;"and neither he nor Evan will be content to bide quietly here again--never. It aye spoils people to go away and grow rich. "

Shenac Bhan looked at her with some surprise. 

"I cannot answer for Evan, but our Allister says he is coming home tostay. I'm not afraid for him. "

"Oh, but he must be changed after all these years. He has forgotten howdifferent life is here, " said Shenac Dhu with a sigh. "But, Shenac, your Allister speaks kindly of our Evan--in the letter your mother got, I mean. "

"That he does, " said Shenac Bhan eagerly. "He says they are likebrothers, and he says your father need not be sorry that Evan went away. He needed hardening, and he'll win through bravely; and Allister sayshe'll bring Evan with him when he comes. You may trust our Allister, Shenac. "

"May I?" said Shenac Dhu a little wistfully. "Well, I will, " she added, laughing. "But, Shenac, I cannot help it. I _am_ surprised thatAllister should turn out a rich man. He is far too good for the like ofthat. But there is one good thing come out of it--my father has gotquit of the land. You can never cast that up again, Shenac Bhan. "

Shenac Bhan's cheek was crimsoned. 

"I never cast it up to you, Shenac Dhu, " said she hastily. "I neverspoke to any one but himself; and I was sorry as soon as I said it. "

"You need not be. He thought none the worse of you, after the firstanger. But, Shenac, my father is not so hard a man as folk think. I dobelieve he is less glad for the money than he is for Allister and youall. If Evan would only come home! My father has so set his heart onEvan. "

Though Shenac took the matter quietly as far as the rest of the worldwas concerned, she "emptied her heart" to Hamish. To him she confessedshe had grown a little doubtful of Allister. 

"But, Hamish, I shall never doubt or be discouraged again. If Allisteronly comes safe home to my mother and to us all, I shall be content. Weare too young, Hamish. It does not harm you, I know; but as for me, Iam getting as hard as a stone, and as cross as two sticks. I shall beglad when the time comes that I can do as I am bidden again. "

Hamish laughed. "Are you hard, Shenac, and cross? Well, maybe just alittle sometimes. I am not afraid for you, though. It will all comeright, I think, in the end. But I am glad Allister is coming home, andmore glad for your sake than for all the rest. "

CHAPTER TWELVE. 

It is May-day again--not so bright and pleasant as the May-day two yearsago, when Hamish and Shenac sat so drearily watching Angus Dhu'sfence-building. They are sitting on the same spot now, and the childrenare under the big willow, sailing boats as they did that day--all butDan. You could not make him believe that he had done such a foolishthing as that two years ago. Two years! It might be ten for thedifference they have made in Dan. He only came back from the GrandRiver two days ago, and Shenac has not ceased wondering and laughing atthe change in him. It is not merely his new-fashioned coat andastonishing waistcoat that have changed him. He has grown amazingly, and his voice is almost always as deep and rough as Angus Dhu's; and theman and the boy are so blended in all he says and does, that Shenac hasmuch ado to answer him as gravely as he expects. 

"Hamish, " he called out from the top of the fence on which he wassitting, "you are a man of sense, and I want to ask you a question. Whose fence is this that I am sitting on? Is it ours, or Angus Dhu's?"

Hamish had not considered the question. Indeed, Dan did not wait for ananswer. 

"Because, it is of no use here. If it is ours, we'll draw the rails upto the high field, and get them out of the way before Allister comeshome. If it belongs to Angus Dhu, we'll--we'll throw the rails into thecreek. "

"There's no hurry about it, is there?" said a voice behind him; and Dan, jumping down, turned about, and with more shamefacedness than Shenacwould have believed possible, met the offered hand of Angus Dhu. 

"I heard you had come back again, Dan, lad; and I thought you would notlet the grass grow under your feet. --Are you for putting my good railsin the creek, Hamish, man?"

Hamish was laughing too much at Dan's encounter to be able to answer atonce. Shenac was laughing too; but she was nearly as shamefaced as Dan, remembering her own encounter on the same ground. 

"If it is Allister you're thinking about, he's not here yet, and youneed not be in a hurry. And as to whether the rails are yours or mine, when the goods are bought and paid for there need be no words about thestring that ties them. But for all that, Dan, lad, I have something tosay to your mother yet, and you may as well let them be where they are awhile. --Are you for sending my good rails down the creek, too?" he addedsuddenly, turning to Shenac. 

"It was Dan's plan, not mine, " said Shenac. "Though once I would haveliked to do it, " she added candidly. 

"No, Shenac, " said Hamish; "you wanted to burn it. Don't you mind?"

"O Hamish!" exclaimed Shenac. 

Angus Dhu smiled. 

"That would be a pity. They are good rails--the very best. And if theywere put up too soon, they can be taken down again. You have heard fromyour brother again?"

"No; not since about the time of your letter, " said Hamish. "We arethinking he may be on the way. "

For an instant an eager look crossed the face of the old man, but heshook his head. 

"No. With gold comes the love of it. He will stay where he is a whileyet. "

"You don't know our Allister, " exclaimed Shenac hotly. 

But Hamish laid his hand on hers. 

"Whisht. He's thinking of Evan, " he said softly. 

"He'll not be here this while yet, " continued Angus Dhu, not heeding theinterruption. "You'll have the summer before you, I'm thinking; and thequestion is, whether you'll take down the fence just now, while thecreek is full, " he added, smiling significantly at Dan, "or whetheryou'll let things be as they are till you have more help. I have donewell by the land, and will yet, and give you what is just and right forthe use of it till your brother comes. But for what am I saying allthis to children like you? It is your mother that must decide it. "

Accordingly, before the mother the matter was laid; but it was not themother who decided it. Shenac could hardly sit still while he spoke ofthe time that might pass before Allister should come home. But when hewent on to say that, unless they had more help, the boys and Shenaccould not manage more land than they had already, she felt that it wastrue. Hamish thought so too, and said heartily to Angus Dhu that theland would be better under his care till Allister should come. 

Dan was indignant. He felt himself equal to anything, and declaredthat, with two men at his disposal, he could make the farm look like adifferent place. But the rest had less faith in Dan than he had inhimself. He did not conceal his disgust at the idea of creeping onthrough another summer in the old, quiet way, and talked of leaving itto Hamish and Shenac and seeking work somewhere else. But they knewvery well he would never do that, now that Allister might be home amongthem any day; and he did not. There was no pulling down of the fence, however. It stood as firm as ever; but it was not an eyesore to Shenacnow. 

The spring passed, and the summer wore away slowly, for there was nomore word of Allister. Shenac did not weary herself with field-work, asshe had done the last two years; for she felt that they might get helpnow, and, besides, she was needed more in the house. Her mother hadallowed herself to think that only a few weeks would pass before sheshould see her first-born, and the waiting and suspense told upon hersadly. It told upon Shenac, too. In spite of her declaration toHamish, she did feel anxious and discouraged many a time. Hamish wasill again, not always able to see to things; and Dan was not provinghimself equal to the emergency, now that he was having his own wayout-of-doors. That would not matter much, if Allister were come. Hewould set all things right again, and Dan would not be likely to resisthis oldest brother's lawful authority. 

But if Allister did not come soon? Shenac shrank from this question. If he did not come soon, she would have something else to think aboutbesides Dan's delinquencies. Her mother could not endure this suspensemuch longer. It was wearing out her health and spirits; and it neededall Shenac's strength and courage to get through some of these summerdays. It was worse when Hamish went again for a few weeks to hisuncle's. He must go, Shenac said, to be strong and well to welcomeAllister; and much as it grieved him to leave his sister, he knew that afew weeks of the baths would give him the best chance to be able to helpher should this sad suspense change to sadder certainty and Allisternever come home again. So he went away. 

Often and often, during the long days that followed his going away, Shenac used to wonder at herself for ever having been weary of thelabour that had fallen to her during the last two years. Now, when hermother had a better day than usual, when little Flora could do all thatwas needed for her, so that Shenac could go out to the field, she wascomparatively at peace. The necessity for bodily exertion helped herfor the time to set aside the fear that was growing more terrible everyday. But, when the days came that she could not leave her mother, whenshe must sit by her side, or wander with her into the garden or fields, saying the same hopeful words or answering the same questions over andover again, it seemed to her that she could not very long endure it. Afear worse than the fear of death grew upon her--the fear that hermother's mind would give way at last, and that she would not know herson when he came. Even the fear that he might never come seemed easierto bear than this. 

Shenac Dhu helped her greatly at this time. Not that she was verycheerful herself, poor girl; but the quick, merry ways she would assumewith her aunt did her good. She would speak of the coming home ofAllister as certain and near at hand, and she would tell of all that wasto be done and said, of the house that he was to build, and of the gownsthat Shenac Bhan was to wear, while her aunt would listen contentedlyfor a while. And when the old shadow came back, and the old moan rose, she would just begin and go over it all again. 

She was needed at home during the day; but all the time that Hamish wasaway she shared with Shenac Bhan the task of soothing the weary, wakefulnights of the mother. She sat one night in the usual way, speakingsoftly, and singing now and then, till the poor weary mother had droppedasleep. Rising quietly and going to the door, she found Shenac Bhansitting on the step, with her head on her hands. 

"Shenac, " she said, "why did you not go to bed, as I bade you? I'llneed to begin on you, now that aunt is settled for the night. You aretired, Shenac. Why don't you go to bed?"

Her cousin moved and made room for her on the step beside her. Thechildren were in bed, and Dan had gone away with one of Angus Dhu's mento a preaching that was going on in a new kirk several miles away. Itwas moonlight--so bright that they could see the shadows of the treesfar over the fields, and only a star was visible here and there in theblue to which, for a time, the faces of both were upturned. 

"You're tired, Shenac Bhan, " said her cousin again; "more tired thanusual, I mean. "

"No, not more tired than you are. Do you know, Shenac, your eyes looktwice as big as they used to do, and twice as black?"

"Do they? Well, so do yours. But no wonder that you are growing thinand pale; for I do believe, you foolish Shenac Bhan, that it sometimescomes into your mind that Allister may never come home. Now confess. "

"I often think it, " said Shenac, in an awed voice. 

"Toch! I knew it by your face. You are as bad as my aunt. "

"Do you never think so?" asked our Shenac. 

"Think it!" said Shenac Dhu scornfully. "I trow not. Why should Ithink it? I will not think it! He'll come and bring Evan. Oh, I'msure he'll come. "

"Well, I'm not always hopeless; there is no reason, " said Shenac. "Hedid not say he would come at once; but he should write. "

"Oh, you may be sure he has written and the letter has been lost. Ihardly ever take up a paper but I read of some ship that has gone down, and think of the letters that must go down with it, and other things. "

Each saw the emotions that the face of the other betrayed in themoonlight. 

"And think of the sailors, " continued Shenac Dhu. "O Shenac, darling, we are only wearying for a lost letter; but think of the lost sailors, and the mothers and sisters that are waiting for them!" A strongshudder passed over Shenac Bhan. 

"I don't think you know what you are saying, Shenac, " said she. 

"Yes; about the lost letters, and the sailors, " said Shenac Dhuhurriedly. "The very worst that can happen to us is that we may losethe letters. God would never give us the hope of seeing them, and thenlet them be drowned in the sea. "

The thought was too much for them, and they burst into bitter weeping. 

"We are two fools, " said Shenac Dhu, "frightening ourselves for nothing. We need Hamish to scold us and set us right. Why should we be afraid?If there was any cause for fear there would be plenty to tell us of it. Nobody seems afraid for them except my father; and it is not fear withhim. He has never settled down in the old way since the letter camesaying that Allister would bring Evan home. "

Yes, they needed Hamish more than they knew. It was the anxiety for themother, the sleepless nights and unoccupied days, that, all together, unnerved Shenac Bhan. It was the dwelling on the same theme, the goingover and over the same thing--"nothing would happen to him?"--"he wouldbe sure to come?"--till the words seemed to mock her, they made her soweary of hoping and waiting. 

For, indeed, nobody seemed to think there was anything strange in thelonger stay of Allister. He had stayed so long and done so well, hemight be trusted surely to come home when the right time came. No, there was no real cause for fear, Shenac repeated to herself often. Ifher mother had been well and quite herself, and if Hamish had been athome, she thought she would never have fallen into this miserable dread. 

She was partly right. It was better for them all when Hamish came home. He was well, for him, and cheerful. He had never imagined how sadlythe time was passing at home, or he would not have stayed away so long. He was shocked at the wan looks of the two girls, and quite unable tounderstand how they should have grown so troubled at a few weeks' oreven a few months' delay. His wonder at their trouble did them good. It could not be so strange--the silence and the delay--or Hamish wouldsurely see it. The mother was better too after the return of Hamish. The sight of him, and his pleasant, gentle talk, gave a new turn to herthoughts, and she was able again to take an interest in what was goingforward about her; and when there came a return of the old restlessnessand pain, it was Hamish who stayed in the house to soothe her and tocare for her, while Shenac betook herself with her old energy to theharvest-field. 

The harvest passed. Dan kept very steady at it, though every night hewent to the new kirk, where the meetings were still held. He did notsay much about these meetings even when questioned, but they seemed tohave a wonderful charm for him; for night after night, wet or dry, heand Angus Dhu's man, Peter, walked the four miles that lay between themand the new kirk to hear--"What?" Shenac asked one night. 

"Oh, just preaching, and praying, and singing. "

"But that is nonsense, " insisted Shenac. "You are not so fond ofpreaching as all that. What is it, Dan?"

"It's just that, " said Dan; "that is all they do. The minister speaksto folk, and sometimes the elders; and that's all. But, Shenac, it'swonderful to see so many folk listening and solemn, as if it was thejudgment day; and whiles one reads and prays--folk that never used; andI'm always wondering who it will be next. Last night it was SandyMcMillan. You should have heard him, Shenac. "

"Sandy McMillan!" repeated Shenac contemptuously. "What next, I wonder?I think the folk are crazed. It must be the singing. I mind when Iwas at Uncle Allister's last year I went to the Methodist watch-meeting, and the singing--oh, you should have heard the singing, Hamish! I couldnot keep back the tears, do what I would. It must be the singing, Dan. "

Dan shook his head. 

"They just sing the psalms, Shenac. I never heard anything else--andthe old tunes. They do sound different, though. "

"Well, it goes past me, " said Shenac. "But it is all nonsense goingevery night, Dan--so far too. "

"There are plenty of folk who go further, " said Dan. "You should goyourself, Shenac. "

"I have something else to do, " said Shenac. 

"Everybody goes, " continued Dan; and he repeated the names of manypeople, far and near, who were in the new kirk night after night. "Comewith me and Peter to-night, Shenac. "

But Shenac had other things to think about, she said. Still she thoughtmuch of this too. 

"I wonder what it is, Hamish, " said she when they were alone. "I canunderstand why Dan and Peter McLay should go--just because other folkgo; and I daresay there's some excitement in seeing all the folk, andthat is what they like. But so many others, sensible folk, and worldlyfolk, and all kinds of folk, in this busy harvest-time! You should go, Hamish, and see what it is all about. "

But the way was long and the meetings were late, and Hamish needed tosave his strength; and he did not go, though many spoke of the meetings, and the wonderful change which was wrought in the heart and life of manythrough their means. He wondered as well as Shenac, but not in the sameway; for he had felt in his own heart the wondrous power that lies inthe simple truth of God to comfort and strengthen and enlighten; and itcame into his mind, sometimes, that the good days of which he had readwere coming back again, when the Lord used to work openly in the eyes ofall the people, making his Church the instrument of spreading the gloryof his name by the conversion of many in a day. It did not trouble orstumble him, as it did his sister, that it was not in their church--thechurch of their fathers--that this was done. They were God's people, and it made no difference; and so, while she only wondered, he wonderedand rejoiced. 

But about this time news came that put all other thoughts out of theirminds for a while. The mother was sleeping, and Shenac and Hamish weresitting in the firelight one evening in September, when the door openedand their cousin Shenac came in. She seemed greatly excited, and therewere tears on her cheeks, and she did not speak, but came close up toShenac Bhan, without heeding the exclamations of surprise with whichthey both greeted her. 

"Did I not tell you, Shenac, that God would never drown them in thesea?"

She had run so fast that she had hardly a voice to say the words, andshe sank down at her cousin's feet, gasping for breath. In her handsshe held a letter. It was from Evan--the first he had written to hisfather since he went away. Shenac told them that her father hadreceived it in the morning, but said nothing about it then, going aboutall day with a face like death, and only told them when he broke down atworship-time, when he prayed as usual for "all distant and dear. "

"Then he told my mother and me, " continued Shenac Dhu, spreading out acrushed morsel of paper with hands that trembled. It was only a line ortwo, broken and blurred, praying for his father's forgiveness andblessing on his dying son. He meant to come home with his cousin. Theywere to meet at Saint F---, and sail together, But he had been hurt, andhad fallen ill of fever in an inland town, and he was dying. "And nowthe same ship that takes this to you will take Allister home. He willnot know that I am dying, but will think I have changed my mind as Ihave done before. I would not let him know if I could; for he would besure to stay for my sake, and his heart is set on getting home to hismother and the rest. And, father, I want to tell you that it was notAllister that beguiled me from home, but my own foolishness. He hasbeen more than a brother to me. He has saved my life more than once, and he has saved me from sins worse than death; and you must be kind tohim and to them all for my sake. "

"And then, " said Shenac Dhu, "there is his name, written as if he hadbeen blind; and that is all. "

The three young people sat looking at one another in silence. ShenacBhan's heart beat so strongly that she thought her mother must hear itin her bed; but she could not put her thought in words--"Allister iscoming home. " Shenac Dhu spoke first. 

"Hamish--Shenac, I told my father that Allister would never leave ourEvan alone to die among strangers. "

She paused, looking eagerly first at one and then at the other. 

"No, " said Hamish; "he would never do that, if he knew it in time tostay. We can but wait and see. "

"Wait and see!" Shenac Bhan echoed the words in her heart. If they hadheard that he was to stay for months, or even for years, she thought shecould bear it better than this long suspense. 

"Shenac, " said her cousin, reading her thought, "you would not haveAllister come and leave him? It will only be a little longer whetherEvan lives or dies. "

"No, " said Shenac; "but my mother. "

"We will not tell her for a little while, " said Hamish. "If Allister iscoming it will be soon; and if he has stayed, it will give my mothermore hope of his coming home at last to hear that he is well and that heis waiting for Evan. "

"And my father, " said Shenac Dhu. "Oh! if you had seen how he graspedat the hope when I said Allister was sure to stay, you would not grudgehim for a day or two. Think of the poor lad dying so far from home andfrom us all!" And poor Shenac clung to her cousin, bursting into sobsand bitter tears. 

"Whisht, Shenac, darling, " said her cousin, her own voice broken withsobs; "we can only have patience. "

"Yes, " said Hamish; "we can do more than that--we can trust and pray. And we will not fear for the mother, Shenac. She will be better, nowthat there is a reason for Allister's stay. --And, Cousin Shenac, youmust take hope for your brother. No wonder he was downcast thinking ofbeing left. You must tell your father that there is no call to give uphope for Evan. "

"O Hamish, my father loved Evan dearly, though he was hard on him. Hehas grown an old man since he went away; and to-day, --oh, I think to-dayhis heart is broken. "

"The broken and contrite heart He will not despise, " murmured Hamish. "We have all need of comfort, Shenac, and we'll get it if we seek it. "

And the two girls were startled first, and then soothed, as the voice ofHamish rose in prayer. It was no vague, formal utterance addressed to aGod far away and incomprehensible. He was pleading with a Brother closeat hand--a dear and loving elder Brother--for their brothers far away. He did not plead as one who feared denial, but trustfully, joyfully, seeking first that God's will might be done in them and theirs. Hamishwas not afraid; nothing could be plainer than that. So the two Shenacstook a little comfort, and waited and trusted still. 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN. 

And so they waited. For a few days it did not seem impossible to Shenacthat Allister might come; and she watched each hour of the day andnight, starting and trembling at every sound. But he did not come, andin a little while Hamish broke the tidings to his mother, how they hadheard that Allister was to have sailed on a certain day, but his CousinEvan having been taken ill, they were to wait for another ship; but theywould be sure to come soon. 

Happily, the mother's mind rested more on having heard that her son waswell, and was coming some time, than on his being delayed; and she wasbetter after that. She fell back for a little time into her old ways, moving about the house, and even betaking herself to the neglectedflax-spinning. But she was very feeble, going to bed early, and risinglate, and requiring many an affectionate stratagem on the part of herchildren to keep her from falling into invalid ways. 

It was a sad and weary waiting to them all, but to none more than toAngus Dhu. If he had heard of his son's death, it would not have beenso terrible to him as the suspense which he often told himself need notbe suspense. There was no hope, there could be none, after the wordswritten by his son's trembling hands. He grew an old, feeble man in theshort space between the harvest and the new year. The grief which hadfallen on all the family when Evan's letter came gave way before theanxiety with which they all saw the change in him. His wife was aquiet, gentle woman, saying little at any time, perhaps feeling lessthan her stern husband. They all sorrowed, but it was on the fatherthat the blight fell heaviest. 

It was a fine Sabbath morning in October. It was mild, and not verybright, and the air was motionless. It was just like an Indian-summerday, only the Indian summer is supposed to come in November, after somesnow has fallen on brown leaves and bare boughs; and now the woods werebrilliant with crimson and gold, except where the oak-leaves rustledbrown, or the evergreens mingled their dark forms with the pervadingbrightness. It was a perfect Sabbath day, hushed and restful. But itmust be confessed that Shenac shrank a little from its long, quiet, unoccupied hours; and when something was said about the greatcongregation that would be sure to assemble in the new kirk, she saidshe would like to go. 

"Go, by all means, " said the mother; "and Hamish too, if you are ablefor the walk. Little Flora can do all that is to be done. There'snothing to hinder, if you would like to go. "

There was nothing to hinder; the mother seemed better and more cheerfulthan she had seemed for many days. They might very well leave her for alittle while; they would be home again in the afternoon. So they wentearly--long before the people were setting out--partly that they mighthave time to rest by the way, and partly that they might enjoy the walktogether. 

And they did enjoy it. They were young, and unconsciously their heartsstrove to throw off the burden of care that had pressed so long and soheavily upon them. 

"It has seemed like the old days again, " said Shenac as they came insight of the new kirk, round which many people had already gathered. They were strangers mostly, or, at least, people that they did not knowvery well; and, a little shy and unaccustomed to a crowd, they went intothe kirk and sat down near the door. It was a very bright, pleasanthouse, quite unlike the dim, dreary old place they were accustomed toworship in; and they looked round them with surprise and interest. 

In a little time the congregation began to gather, and soon the pewswere filled and the aisles crowded with an eager multitude; then theminister came in, and worship began. First the psalm was named, andthen there was a pause till the hundreds of Bibles or psalm books wereopened and the place found. Then the old familiar words were heard, andyet could they be the same?

Shenac looked at her Bible. The very same. She had learned the psalmyears ago. She had heard it many a time in the minister's monotonousvoice in the old kirk; and yet she seemed to hear it now for the firsttime. Was it the minister's voice that made the difference? Every wordfell sweet and clear and full from his lips--from his heart--touchingthe hearts of the listening hundreds. Then the voice of praise arose"like the sound of many waters. " After the first verse Hamish joined, but through it all Shenac listened; she alone was silent. With the fulltones of youth and middle age mingled the shrill, clear notes of littlechildren, and the cracked and trembling voices of old men and women, dwelling and lingering on the sweet words as if they were loath to leavethem. It might not be much as music, but as praise it rose to Heaven. Then came the prayer. Shenac thought of Jacob wrestling all night withthe angel at Jabbok, and said to herself, "As a prince he hath powerwith God. " Then came the reading of the Scriptures, then more singing, and then the sermon began. 

Shenac did not fall asleep when the text was read; she listened, andlooked, and wondered. There were no sleepers there that day, even oldDonald and Elspat Smith were awake and eager. Every face was turnedupward towards the minister. Many of them were unknown to Shenac; buton those that were familiar to her an earnestness, new and strange, seemed to rest as they listened. 

What could it be? The sermon seemed to be just like other sermons, onlythe minister seemed to be full of the subject, and eager to make thetruth known to the people. Shenac turned to her brother: she quitestarted when she saw his face. It was not peace alone, or joy, ortriumph, but peace and joy and triumph were brightly blended on theboy's face as he hung on the words of life spoken there that day. 

 "They with the fatness of thy house Shall be well satisfied; From rivers of thy pleasures thou Wilt drink to them provide, "

repeated Shenac. And again it came into her mind that Hamish waschanged, and held in his heart a treasure which she did not share; andstill the words of the psalm came back:--

 "Because of life the fountain pure Remains alone with thee; And in that purest light of thine We clearly light shall see. "

Did Hamish see that light? She looked away from her brother's fair faceto the congregation about them. Did these people see it? did old Donaldand Elspat Smith see it? did big Maggie Cairns, at whose simplicity andqueerness all the young people used to laugh, see it? Yes, even on herplain, common face a strange, bright look seemed to rest, as she turnedit to the minister. There were other faces too with that same gleam ofbrightness on them--old weather-beaten faces, some of them carewornwomen's faces, and the faces of young girls and boys, one here andanother there, scattered through the earnest, listening crowd. 

By a strong effort Shenac turned her attention to the minister's words. They were earnest words, surely, but wherein did they differ from thewords of other men? They seemed to her just like the truths she hadheard before--more fitly spoken, perhaps, than when they fell from thelips of good old Mr Farquharson, but just the same. 

"For scarcely for a righteous man will one die: yet peradventure for agood man some would even dare to die. But God commendeth his lovetoward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. "

This was the text. It was quite familiar to her; and so were the truthsdrawn from it, she thought. What could be the cause of the interestthat she saw in the faces of those eager hundreds? Did they seesomething hidden from her? did they hear in those words something towhich her ears were deaf? Her eyes wandered from one familiar face toanother, coming back to her brother's always with the same wonder; andshe murmured again and again, --

 "From rivers of thy pleasures thou Wilt drink to them provide. "

"He that drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall neverthirst. "

"That is for Hamish, I'm sure of that. I wonder how it all happened tohim? I'll ask him. "

But she did not. The bright look was on his face when the sermon ended, and while the psalm was sung. It was there when the great congregationslowly dispersed, and all the way as they walked home with theneighbours. It was there all day, and all the week; and it never lefthim. Even when pain and sickness set their mark on his face, throughall their sorrowful tokens the bright look of peace shone still; andShenac watched and wondered, but she did not speak of it yet. 

This was Shenac's first visit to the new kirk, but it was by no meansthe last. 

It would be out of place to enter here into any detailed history of thisone of those awakenings of God's people which have taken place atdifferent times in this part of the country; and yet it cannot be quitepassed over. For a long time all the settlers in that neighbourhoodworshipped in the same kirk; but when the time came which proved theChurch in the motherland--the time which separated into two bodies thatwhich had long been one--the same division extended to the far-awaylands where the Scottish form of worship had prevailed. After a time, they who went away built another house in which they might worship theGod of their fathers; and it was at the time of the opening of thishouse that the Lord visited his people. 

A few of those to whom even the dust of Zion is dear, seeking toconsecrate the house, and with it themselves, more entirely to God'sservice, met for prayer for a few nights before the public dedication;and from that time for more than a year not a night passed in which thevoice of prayer and praise did not arise within its walls. All throughthe busy harvest-time, through the dark autumn evenings, when the unmaderoads of the country were deep and dangerous, and through the frosts andsnows of a bitter winter, the people gathered to the house of prayer. Old people, who in former years had thought themselves too feeble tobrave the night and the storm for the sake of a prayer-meeting, were nownever absent. Young people forsook the merry gatherings of singers anddancers, to join the assemblies of God's people. 

It was a wonderful time, all say who were there then. Connected with itwere none of those startling circumstances which in many minds areassociated with a time of revival. The excitement was deep, earnest, and silent; there was in use none of the machinery for creating orkeeping up an interest in the meetings. A stranger coming into one ofthose assemblies might have seen nothing different from the usual weeklygatherings of God's people. The minister held forth the word of life asat other times. It was the simple gospel, the preaching of Christ andhim crucified, that prevailed, through the giving of God's grace, to thesaving of many. 

At some of the meetings others besides the minister took part. At firstit was only the elders or the old people who led the devotions of therest, or uttered words of counsel or encouragement; but later, as Godgave them grace and courage, younger men raised their voices inthanksgivings or petitions, or to tell of God's dealings with them. Butall was done gravely and decently. There was no pressing of excited andignorant young people to the "anxious seats, " no singing of "revivalhymns. " They sang the Psalms from first to last--the old, roughversion, which people nowadays criticise and smile at, wondering however the cramped lines and rude metre could find so sure and permanent aplace in the hearts and memories of their fathers. It is said now thatthese old psalms are quite insufficient for all occasions of praise; butto those people, with hearts overflowing with revived or new-found love, it did not seem so. The suffering and sorrowful saint found utterancein the cry of the psalmist, and the rejoicing soul found in his wordsfull expression for the most triumphant and joyful praise. They whoafter many wanderings were coming back to their first love, and they whohad never come before, alike took his words of self-abasement as theirown. So full and appropriate and sufficient did they prove, that atlast old and experienced Christians could gather from the psalm chosenwhat were the exercises of the reader's mind; and the ignorant, or thoseunaccustomed to put their thoughts in words, found a voice in the wordswhich the Sabbath singing and family worship had made familiar to them. 

After a time, when the number of inquirers became so numerous that theycould not be conveniently received at the manse or at the houses of theelders, they were requested to stay when the congregation dispersed; andoftentimes the few went while the most remained. Then was there many aword "fitly spoken;" many a "word in season" uttered from heart toheart; many a seeking sinner pointed to the Lamb of God; many asorrowful soul comforted; many a height of spiritual attainment madevisible to upward-gazing eyes; many a vision of glory revealed. 

I must not linger on these scenes, wondrous in the eyes of all whowitnessed them. Many were gathered into the Church, into the kingdom, and the name of the Lord was magnified. In the day when all thingsshall be made manifest, it shall be known what wonders of grace werethere in silence wrought. 

For a long time Shenac came to these meetings very much as Dan haddone--because of the interest she took in seeing others deeply moved. She came as a spectator, wondering what it all meant, interested in whatwas said because of the earnestness of the speakers, and enjoying theclear and simple utterance of truth, hitherto only half understood. 

But gradually her attitude was changed. It was less easy after a whileto set herself apart, for many a truth came home to her sharply andsuddenly. Now and then a momentary gleam of light flashed upon her, showing how great was her need of the help which Heaven alone couldgive. Many troubled and anxious thoughts she had, but she kept them allto herself. She never lingered behind with those who wished forcounsel; she never even spoke to Hamish of all that was passing in herheart. 

This was, for many reasons, a time of great trial for Shenac. Day afterday and week after week passed, and still there came no tidings fromAllister or Evan, and every passing day and week seemed to her to makethe hope of their return more uncertain. The mother was falling into astate which was more terrible to Shenac than positive illness would havebeen. Her memory was failing, and she was becoming in many things likea child. She was more easily dealt with in one sense, for she washardly ever fretful or exacting now; but the gentle passiveness thatassented to all things, the forgetfulness of the trifles of the day, andthe pleased dwelling on scenes and events of long ago, were far morepainful to her children than her fretfulness had ever been. 

With a jealousy which all may not be able to understand, Shenac stroveto hide from herself and others that her mother's mind was failing. Shepunished any seeming neglect or disrespect to their mother on the partof the little ones with a severity that no wrong-doing had ever calledforth before, and resented any sympathising allusions of the neighboursto her mother's state as an insult and a wrong. 

She never left her. Even the nightly assembling in the kirk, which soonbegan to interest her so deeply, could not beguile her from home tillher mother had been safely put to rest, with Hamish to watch over her. All this, added to her household cares, told upon Shenac. But a worsefear, a fear more terrible than even the uncertainty of Allister's fateor the doubt as to her mother's recovery, was taking hold upon her. Herdetermination to drive it from her served to keep it ever in view, forit made her watch every change in the face and in the strength of herbeloved brother with an eagerness which she could not conceal. 

Yes, Hamish was less strong than he had been last year. The summer'svisit to the springs had not done for him this year what it had donebefore. He was thinner and paler, and less able to exert himself, thanever. Even Dan saw it, and gave up all thoughts of going to the woodsagain, and devoted himself to out-door matters with a zeal that leftShenac free to attend to her many cares within. 

At last she took courage and spoke to her brother about her fears forhim. He was greatly surprised, both at her fears and at the emotionwith which she spoke of them. She meant to be very quiet, but when sheopened her lips all that was in her heart burst forth. He would notacknowledge himself ill. He suffered less than he had often done whenhe went to the fields daily, though there still lingered enough ofrheumatic trouble about him to make him averse to move much, andespecially to brave the cold. That was the reason he looked so wan andwilted--that and the anxious thoughts about his mother. 

"And, indeed, Shenac, you are more changed than I am in looks, for thatmatter. "

Shenac made an incredulous movement. 

"I am perfectly well, " said she. 

"Yes; but you are changed. You are much thinner than you used to be, and sometimes you look pale and very weary, and you are a great dealolder-looking. "

"Well, I am older than I used to be, " said Shenac. 

She rose and crossed the room to look at herself in the glass. 

"I don't see any difference, " she added, after a moment. 

"Not just now, maybe, because you have been busy and your cheeks arered. And as for being a great deal older, how old are you, Shenac?"

"I am--I shall be nineteen in September; but I feel a great deal olderthan that, " said Shenac. 

"Yes; that is what I was saying. You are changed as well as I. And youare not to fancy things about me and add to your trouble. I am quitewell. If I were not, I would tell you, Shenac. It would be cruelkindness to keep it from you; I know that quite well. "

Shenac looked wistfully in her brother's face. 

"I know I am growing a coward, " she said in a broken voice. "O Hamish, it does seem as though our troubles were too many and hard to bear justnow!"

"He who sent them knows them--every one; and He can make his gracesufficient for us, " said Hamish softly. 

"Ay, for you, Hamish. "

"And for you too, Shenac. You are not very far from the light, dearsister. Never fear. "

 "And in that purest light of thine We clearly light shall see, "

murmured Shenac. They were ever coming into her mind--bits of thepsalms she had been hearing so much lately; and they brought comfort, though sometimes she hesitated to take it to her heart as she might. 

But light was near at hand, and peace and comfort were not far away. Afterwards, Shenac always looked back to this night as the beginning ofher Christian life. This night she went to the house of prayer, fromwhich her fears for Hamish had for a long time kept her, and there theLord met her. Oh, how weary in body and mind and heart she was as shesat down among the people! It seemed to her that not one of all thecongregation was so hopeless or so helpless as she--that no one in allthe world needed a Saviour more. As she sat there in the silence thatpreceded the opening of the meeting, all her fears and anxieties cameover her like a flood, and she felt herself unable to stand up againstthem in her own strength. She was hardly conscious of putting intowords the cry of her heart for help; but words are not needed by Himfrom whom alone help can come. 

God does not always choose the wisest and greatest, even among his ownpeople, to do his noblest work. It was a very humble servant of Godthrough whose voice words of peace were spoken to Shenac. In the midstof her trouble she heard a voice--an old man's weak, quavering voice--saying, --

 "Praise God. The Lord praise, O my soul. I'll praise God while I live; While I have being to my God In songs I'll praises give. Trust not in princes;"

and so on to the fifth verse, which he called the key-note of thepsalm:--

 "O happy is that man and blest, Whom Jacob's God doth aid; Whose hope upon the Lord doth rest, And on his God is stay'd;"

and so on to the end of the 146th Psalm, pausing on every verse to tell, in plain and simple words, why it is that they who trust in God are soblessed. 

I daresay there were some in the kirk that night who grew weary of theold man's talk, and would fain have listened to words more fitly chosen;but Shenac was not one of these. As she listened, there came upon her asense of her utter sinfulness and helplessness, and then aninexpressible longing for the help of Him who is almighty. And I cannottell how it came to pass, but even as she sat there she felt herheaviest burdens roll away; the clouds that had hung over her so long, hiding the light, seemed to disperse; and she saw, as it were, face toface, Him who came to bear our griefs and carry our sorrows, andthenceforth all was well with her. 

Well in the best sense. Not that her troubles and cares were at an end. She had many of these yet; but after this she lived always in theknowledge that she had none that were not of God's sending, so she nolonger wearied herself by trying to bear her burdens alone. 

It was not that life was changed to her. _She_ was changed. The sameSpirit who, through God's Word and the example and influence of herbrother, made her dissatisfied with her own doings, still wrought inher, enlightening her conscience, quickening her heart, and filling herwith love to Him who first loved her. 

It would not have been easy for her, in the first wonder and joy of thechange, to tell of it in words, except that, like the man who was bornblind, she might have said, "One thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see. " But her life told what her lips could not, and in athousand ways it became evident to those at home, and to all who sawher, that something had happened to Shenac--that she was at peace withherself and with all the world as she had not been before; and as forHamish, he said to himself many a time, "It does not matter what happensto Shenac now. All will be well with her, now and always. "

CHAPTER FOURTEEN. 

After long waiting, Allister came home. Shenac and Hamish had nointention of watching the going out of the old year and the coming in ofthe new; but they lingered over the fire, talking of many things, tillit grew late. And while they sat, the door opened, and Allister camein. They did not know that he was Allister. The dark-bearded manlingering on the threshold was very little like the fair-faced youth whohad left them four years ago. He made a step forward into the room, andsaid, --

"This is Hamish, I know; but can this be our little Shenac?" And thenthey knew him. 

It would be vain to try to describe the meeting. The very happiestmeeting after years of separation must be sorrowful too. Death had beenamong them since Allister went, and the bereavement seemed new to thereturned wanderer, and his tears fell as he listened to the few wordsHamish said about his father's last days. 

When the first surprise and joy and sorrow were a little abated, Shenacwhispered, --

"And Evan--Hamish, should we go to-night to tell Angus Dhu that Allisterhas come home?"

"What about Evan, Allister?" said Hamish. 

"Do you not know? Did you not get my letter? I waited for Evan. Hehad been robbed and hurt, and thought himself dying. But it was not sobad as that. He is better now--quite well, I think. I left him at hisfather's door. "

"At home! Evan at home! What did his father say? Did you see AngusDhu?"

Shenac was quite breathless by the time her questions were asked. 

"No; I could not wait. The field between there and here seemed wider tome than the ocean. When I saw the light, I left him there. " And themanly voice had much ado to keep from breaking into sobs again as hespoke. 

"His father has been so anxious. No letter has come to us since Evan'scame to his father to say that he was dying. I wish the old man hadbeen prepared, " said Shenac. 

"Oh, I am grieved! If I had but thought, " said Allister regretfully. 

"It is quite as well that he was not prepared, " said Hamish. And he wasright. 

Shenac Dhu told them about it afterwards. 

"My mother went to the door, and when she saw Evan she gave a cry andlet the light fall. And then we all came down; and my father came outof his bed just as he was, and when he saw my mother crying and clingingabout the lad, he dropped down in the big chair and held out his handswithout saying a word. You may be sure Evan was not long in takingthem; and then he sank down on his knees, and my father put his armsround him, and would not move--not even to put his clothes on, "continued Shenac Dhu, laughing and sobbing at the same time. "So I gota plaid and put about him; and there they would have sat, I dare say, till the dawn, but after just the first, Evan looked pale and weary, andmy father said he must go to bed at once. `But first tell us about yourcousin Allister, ' my father said. Evan said it would take him allnight, and many a night, to tell all that Allister had done for him; andthen my father said, `God bless him!' over and over. And I cannot tellyou any more, " said Shenac Dhu, laughing and crying and hiding her facein her hands. 

"But as to my father being prepared, " she added gravely, after amoment's pause, "I am afraid if he had had time to think about it, itwould have seemed his duty to be stern at first with Evan. But it isfar better as it is; and he can hardly bear him out of his sight. Oh, I'm glad it is over! I know now, by the joy of the home-coming, howterrible the waiting must have been to him. "

Very sad to Allister was his mother's only half-conscious recognition ofhim. She knew him, and called him by name; but she spoke, too, of hisfather and Lewis, not as dead and gone, but as they used to be in theold days when they were all at home together, when Hamish and Shenacwere little children. She was content, however, and did not suffer. There were times, too, when she seemed to understand that he had beenaway, and had come home to care for them all; and she seemed to trusthim entirely that "he would be good to Hamish and the rest when she wasno more. "

"Folk get used to the most sorrowful things at last, " said Shenac toherself, as, after a time, Allister could turn quietly from the mother, so broken and changed, to renew his playful sallies with his brothersand little Flora. Indeed, it was a new acquaintance that he had to makewith them. They had grown quite out of his remembrance, and he was notat all like the brother Allister of their imaginations; but this makingfriends with one another was a very pleasant business to them all. 

He had to renew his acquaintance with others too--with his cousins andthe neighbours. He had much to hear and much to tell, and after a whilehe had much to do too; and through all the sayings and doings, thecomings and goings, --of the first few weeks, both Hamish and Shenacwatched their brother closely and curiously. Apart from their interestin him as their brother whom they loved, and in whose hands the futureof all the rest seemed to lie, they could not but watch him curiously. He was so exactly like the merry, gentle, truthful Allister of oldtimes, and yet so different! He had grown so strong and firm and manly. He knew so many things. He had made up his mind about the world andthe people in it, and could tell his mind too. 

"Our Allister is a man!" said Shenac, as she sat in the kitchen onenight with Shenac Dhu and the rest. The words were made to mean a greatdeal by the way in which they were spoken, and they all laughed. Buther cousin answered the words merely, and not the manner:--

"That is not saying much. Men are poor creatures enough, sometimes. "

"But our Allister is not one of that kind, " said Dan, before his sisterhad time to answer. "He _is_ a man. He is made to rule. His will mustbe law wherever he is. "

Dan had probably some private reason for knowing this better than therest, and Shenac Dhu hinted as much. But Dan took no notice, and wenton, --

"You should hear Evan tell about him. Why, he saved the lives of thewhole band more than once, by his firmness and wisdom. "

"I have heard our Evan speaking of him, " said Shenac Dhu, her dark eyessoftening, as she sat looking into the fire; "but if one is to believeall that Evan says, your Allister is not a man at all, but--don't bevexed, Dan--an angel out of heaven. "

"Oh, I don't know about that part of it, " said Dan; "but I know onething: he'll be chief of the clan, boss of the shanty, or he'll know thereason why. --O Shenac, dear, I'm sorry for you; your reign is over, Idoubt. You'll be farmer-in-chief no longer. "

The last words were spoken with a mingled triumph and pathos that wereirresistible. They all laughed. 

"Don't be too sorry for me, Dan, " said his sister. "I'll try to bearit. "

"Oh yes, I know: you think you won't care, but I know better. You liketo rule as well as Allister. You'll see, when spring comes, that youwon't put him aside as you used to put me. "

"There won't be the same need, " said Shenac, laughing. 

"Won't there? It is all very fine, now that Allister is new. But waitand see. You won't like to be second-best, after having been first solong. "

Both Hamish and Shenac Dhu were observing her. She caught their look, and reddened a little. 

"Do you think so, Shenac Dhu?--You surely cannot think so meanly of me, Hamish?"

"I think there may be a little truth in what Dan says, but I cannotthink meanly of you because of that, " said Hamish. 

"Nonsense, Hamish!" said Shenac Dhu; "you don't know anything about it. It is one thing to give up to a lad without sense, like Dan, but quiteanother thing to yield to a man like Allister, strong and wise andgentle. You are not to make Shenac afraid of her brother. "

"I shall never be afraid of Allister, " said Shenac Bhan gravely; "andindeed, Hamish, I don't think it is quite kind in you to think I like myown way best of all--"

"I did not mean that, Shenac, " said her brother. 

"But you are afraid I will not like to give up to Allister. You neednot--at least, I think you need not, " she added meditatively. "I shallbe glad and thankful to have our affairs managed by stronger hands and awiser head than mine. "

"If stronger and wiser could be found, Shenac, dear, " said a new voice, and Shenac's face was bent back, while her brother kissed her on thecheek and lip. "Uncle Angus thinks it would not be easy to do that. "

They were all taken aback a little at this interruption, and eachwondered how much he had heard of what had been said. 

"Have you been long here, Allister?" asked Dan. 

"No; I came this minute from the other house. Your mother told me youwere here, Shenac Dhu. "

"Did you hear what we were saying?" asked Dan, not content to let wellalone. 

"No; what was it?" said Allister surprised, and a little curious. 

"Oh, you should have heard these girls, " said Dan mischievously. "Suchstuff as they have been talking!"

"The chief of the clan, and the boss of the shanty, " said Hamishgravely; "and that was you, Dan, was it not?"

"Oh! what I said is nothing. It was the two Shenacs, " said Dan. 

Shenac Dhu, as a general thing, was able enough to take her own part;but she looked a little shamefaced at the moment, and said nothing. 

"What did they say, Dan?" asked Allister, laughing. 

Shenac Dhu need not have feared. Dan went on to say, --

"I have been telling our Shenac that she will have to `knock under, ' nowthat you are come home; but she says she is not afraid. "

"Why should she be?" asked Allister, who still stood behind his sister, passing his hand caressingly over her hair. 

"Oh, you don't know our Shenac, " said Dan, nodding wisely, as though hecould give some important information on the subject. The rest laughed. 

"I'm not sure that I know anybody's Shenac very well, " said Allistergravely; "but in time I hope to do so. "

"Oh, but our Shenac's not like the rest of the girls. She's hard andproud, and looks at folk as though she didn't see them. You may laugh, but I have heard folk say it; and so have you, Shenac Dhu. "

"No, I never did, " said Shenac Dhu; "but maybe it's true for all that:there's Sandy McMillan--"

"And more besides him, " said Dan. "There's your father--"

"My father! Oh, he's no mark. He believes Shenac Bhan to be at leastfifteen years older than I am, and wiser in proportion. But as for hernot seeing people, that's nonsense, Dan. "

But Shenac Bhan would have no more of it. 

"Shenac Dhu, you are as foolish as Dan to talk so. Don't encourage him. What will Allister think?"

Shenac laughed, but said no more. 

They were right. Allister was a man of the right sort. Whether, ifcircumstances had been different, he would have been content to comeback and settle down as a farmer on his father's land, it is not easy tosay. But as it was, he did not hesitate for a moment. Hamish wouldnever be able to do hard work. Dan might be steady enough by-and-by totake the land; but in the meantime Shenac must not be left with a burdenof care too heavy for her. So he set himself to his work with a goodwill. 

He had not come back a rich man according to the idea of riches held bythe people he had left behind him; but he was rich in the opinion of hisneighbours, and well enough off in his own opinion. That is, he had themeans of rebuilding his father's house, and of putting the farm in goodorder, and something besides. He lost no time in commencing hislabours, and he worked, and made others work, with a will. There wereamong the neighbours those who shook their cautious old heads when theyspoke of his energetic measures, as though they would not last long; butthis was because they did not know Allister Macivor. 

He had not been at home two days before he made up his mind that hismother should not pass another winter in the little log-house that hadsheltered them since his father's death; and he had not been at home tendays when preparations for the building of a new house were commenced. Before the snow went away, stone and lime for the walls and bricks forthe chimneys were collected, and the carpenters were at work on windowsand doors. As soon as the frost was out of the ground, the cellar wasdug and stoned, and everything was prepared for the masons andcarpenters, so that when the time for the farm-work came, nothing had tobe neglected in the fields because of the work going on at the newhouse. So even the slow, cautious ones among the neighbours confessedthat, as far as could be judged yet, Allister was a lad of sense; forthe true farmer will attend to his fields at the right time and in theright way, whatever else may be neglected. 

But the house went on bravely--faster than ever house went on in thoseparts before, for all things were ready to the workmen's hands. 

May-day came, and found Allister and Dan busy in taking down Angus Dhu'sfence--at least, that part of it that lay between the house-field andthe creek. 

"I didn't think the old man meant to let us have these rails, " said Dan. "Not that they are his by rights. I should not wonder if he were downupon us, after all, for taking them away. " And Dan put up his hands toshade his eyes, as he turned in the direction of Angus Dhu's house. 

"Nonsense, Dan; I bought the rails, " said Allister. 

Dan whistled. 

"If I had been you, I would have taken them without his leave, " said he. 

"Pooh! and quarrelled with a neighbour for the sake of a few rails. "

"But right is right, " insisted Dan. "Not that I think he would havemade much ado about it, though. The old man has changed lately. Ialways think the hearing that our Shenac gave him on this very place didhim a deal of good. "

Dan looked mysterious, and Allister was a little curious. 

"I have always told you that you don't know our Shenac. Whether it isyour coming home, or my mother's not being well, that has changed her, Ican't say. Or maybe it is something else, " added Dan thoughtfully. Hehad an idea that others in the parish were changed as well as Shenac. "She's changed, anyway. She's as mild as summer now. But if you hadseen her when Angus Dhu was making this fence--Elder McMillan was here;"and Dan went off into a long account of the matter, and of other mattersof which Allister had as yet heard nothing. 

"Angus Dhu don't seem to bear malice, " said he, when Dan paused. "Hehas a great respect for Shenac. "

"Oh yes, of course; so have they all. " And Dan launched into asuccession of stories to prove that Shenac had done wonders in the wayof winning respect. For though he had sometimes been contrary enough, and even now thought it necessary to remind his sister that, being agirl, she must be content to occupy but a humble place in the world, Shenac had no more stanch friend and supporter than he. Indeed, Dan wasone who, though restless and jealous of his rights when he thought theywere to be interfered with, yielded willingly to a strong hand andrightful authority; and he had greatly improved already under themanagement of his elder brother, of whom he was not a little proud. 

"Yes, " continued he, "I think they would have scattered us to the fourwinds if it had not been for Shenac. She always said that you wouldcome home, and that we must manage to keep together till then. Man, youshould have seen her when Angus Dhu said to my mother that he doubtedthat you had gone for your own pleasure, and would stay for the same. She could not show him the door, because my mother was there, and he isan old man; but she turned her back upon him and walked out like aqueen, and would not come in again while he stayed, though Shenac Dhucried, and begged her not to mind. "

"I suppose Shenac Dhu was of the same mind--that I was not to betrusted, " said Allister. 

Dan shrugged his shoulders. 

"Oh, as to that, I don't know. She's only a girl, and it does notmatter what she thinks. But how it vexed her to be told what our Shenacsaid about her father. "

"But the two Shenacs were never unfriendly?" said Allisterincredulously. 

"No, " said Dan; "I don't think they ever were. Partly because Shenacyonder did not believe all I said, I suppose, and partly because she wasvexed herself with her father. Oh yes, they are fast friends, the twoShenacs. You should have seen them the night Angus Dhu came to speak tomy mother about the letter that came from Evan. Our Shenac was as proudof you as a hen is of one chicken, though she did not let the old mansee it; and Shenac Dhu was as bad, and said over and over again to herfather, `I told you, father, that Allister was good and true. He'llnever leave Evan; don't be afraid. ' I doubt Evan was a wild lad outyonder, Allister. "

"Not wilder than many another, " said Allister gravely. "But it is a badplace for young men, Dan. Evan was like a brother to me always. "

"You were a brother to him, at any rate, " said Dan. 

"We were like brothers, " said Allister. 

"Oh, well, it's all right, I daresay, " said Dan. "It has come out likea story in a book, you both coming home together. And, Allister, I waswrong about our Shenac in one thing. She does not mind in the leastletting you do as you like. She seems all the better pleased when youare pleased; but she was hard on me, I can tell you. "

"That's queer, too, " said Allister, with a look in his eyes that madeDan laugh in spite of himself. 

"Oh yes, I know what you are thinking: that there is a differencebetween you and me. But there is a difference in Shenac too. "

CHAPTER FIFTEEN. 

Dan was right, --Shenac was changed. Even if Allister had not come home, if the success of the summer's work had depended, as it had hithertomainly done, upon her, it would have been a very different summer fromthe last. The labour, though it had been hard enough, from earlymorning till night every day of the year, was not what had been worstfor her. The constant care and anxiety had been harder to bear. Notthe fear of want. That had never really troubled her. She knew that itwould never come to that with them. But the welfare of all the familyhad depended on her strength and wisdom while they kept together, andthe responsibility had been too heavy for her. How much too heavy ithad been she only knew by the blessed sense of relief which followed itsremoval. 

But it would have been different now, even had her cares been the same, for a new element mingled in her life--a firm trust in God. She hadknown, in a way, all along that, labour as she might, the increase mustcome from God. She had always assented to her brother's gentlereminders of the heavenly care and keeping promised to the widow and thefatherless; but she had wearied and vexed herself, taking all the weightof the burden, just as if there had been no promise given, no help madesure. 

It would have been quite different now. Even failure would have broughtno such burden as had come with a sense of success before, because ofher sure and certain knowledge that all that concerned her was safe inthe best and most loving care. 

And, with Allister between her and the summer's work, she had no need totrouble herself. Every day had strengthened her trust in him, not onlyas a loving brother, but as a wise man and a good farmer; and many atime she laughed merrily to herself as Dan's foolish words about her notwishing to give place to Allister came to her mind. She could nevertell him or any one else how blessed was the sense of relief and peacewhich his being at home gave her. She awoke every morning with therestful feeling fresh in her heart. There was no half-consciousplanning about ways and means before her eyes were open; no shrinkingfrom possible encounters with Dan's idleness or wilfulness; no balancingof possibilities as to his doing well, or doing at all, some piece ofwork depending upon him. 

She heard more in the song of the birds now than just the old burden, "It is time to be at work again. " It gave her quite a sense of pleasurenow and then to find herself looking over the fields with delight justbecause they were fresh and green and beautiful, and not at all becauseof the tons of hay or the bushels of grain which they were to yield. Ofcourse it was pleasant to anticipate a good harvest, and it was pleasantto know that there were wider fields to harvest this year, and that thebarns would be full to overflowing. It did not in the least lessen thepleasure to know that this year success would not be due to her. Indeed, her pride in Allister's work was quite as great as it ever hadbeen in her own, and the pleasure had fewer drawbacks. She could speakof it and triumph in it, and did so with Hamish and Shenac Dhu, andsometimes with Allister himself. 

She was happy, too, in a half-conscious coming back to the thoughts andenjoyments of the time before their troubles had overtaken them. Shewas very young still, quite young enough to grow light-hearted andmirthful; and if her mother had been well, it would truly have seemedlike the old happy days again. 

Not that she had very much leisure even now. She did not go to thefields; but what with the dairy and the house-work, and after a littlewhile the wool, she had plenty to do. There were two more cows in theenlarged pasture, and some of the people who were busy about the newhouse took their meals with them, so there was little time for lingeringover anything. Besides, the house-work, which in the busy seasons hadseemed a secondary concern, was done differently now. Shenac took prideand pleasure in doing everything in the very best way, and in having thehouse in order, the linen snow-white, and the table neatly laid; and thelittle log-house was a far pleasanter home than many a more commodiousdwelling. 

If there had lingered in Angus Dhu's heart any indignation towardsShenac for having interfered with his plans, and for having spoken hermind to him so plainly, it was gone now. They had no more frequentvisitor than he, and few who were more welcome. His coming was forAllister's sake, his sister used to think; and, indeed, the old manseemed to see no fault in the young farmer. He gave him his confidenceas he had never given it to any one before. After the first meeting henever spoke of what Allister had done for him in bringing Evan home, buthe knew it was through his care and tenderness that he had ever seen hisson's face again, and he was deeply grateful. 

There was another reason why he found pleasure in the young man'ssociety. He had loved Allister's father when they had been youngtogether, before the love of money had hardened his heart and blindedhis eyes. His long trouble and fear for his son had made him feel thatwealth is not enough to give peace. It had shaken his faith in the "godof this world;" and as God's blessing on his sorrow softened his heart, the worldly crust fell away, and he came back to his old thoughts--orrather, I should say, his young thoughts of life again. 

Allister was just what his father had been at his age--as gentle, asmanly, and kind-hearted; having, besides, the strength of character, theknowledge of men and things, which his father had lacked. He had alwaysbeen a bold, frank lad. Even in the old times he had never stood in aweof "the dour old man, " as the rest had done. In the old times hisfrankness had been resented as an unwarrantable liberty; but it was verydifferent now. Even his own children felt a little restraint in thepresence of the stern old man; but Allister always greeted himcheerfully, talked with him freely, and held his own opinions firmly, though they often differed widely enough from those of Angus Dhu. Butthey never quarrelled. The old man's dogmatic ways vexed and irritatedShenac many a time; even Hamish had much ado to keep his patience andthe thread of his argument at the same time; but Allister never lost histemper, and if the old man grew bitter and disagreeable, as he sometimesdid, the best cure for it was Allister's good-humoured determination notto see it, and so they always got on well together. 

Of all their friends, Angus Dhu was the one whom their mother neverfailed to recognise. She did not always remember how the last few yearshad passed, and spoke to him, as she so often did to others, as thoughher husband were still living and her children young; but almost alwaysshe was recalled to the present by the sight of him, and rejoiced overAllister's return, and the building of the new house, and the prosperitywhich seemed to be coming back to them. But, whether she was quiteherself or not, he was always very gentle with her, answering the samequestions and telling the same incidents over and over again for herpleasure, with a patience very different from anything that might havebeen expected from him. 

There was one thing about Allister, and Shenac too, which greatly vexedtheir uncle. In his eyes it seemed almost like forsaking the God oftheir fathers when, Sabbath after Sabbath, they passed by the old kirkand sat in the new. He would have excused it on the days when old MrFarquharson was not there and the old kirk was closed; but that theyshould hold with these "new folk" at all times was a scandal in hiseyes. 

It was in vain that Hamish proved to him that in doctrine anddiscipline--in everything, indeed, except one thing, which could notaffect them in this country--the new folk were just like the old. Thisonly made the matter less excusable in the eyes of Angus Dhu. Theseparation which circumstances might have made necessary at home--asthese people still lovingly called the native land of their fathers--wassurely not needed here, and it grieved and vexed the old man sorely tosee so many leaving the old minister and the kirk their fathers hadbuilt and had worshipped in so long. 

But even Angus Dhu himself ventured into the forbidden ground of the newkirk, when word was brought that Mr Stewart, the schoolmaster of twoyears ago, was come to supply the minister's place there for a while. He had a great respect for Mr Stewart, and some curiosity, now that hewas an ordained minister, to hear him preach; and having heard him, heacknowledged to himself, though he was slow to speak of it to others, that the word of God was held forth with power, and he began to thinkthat, after all, the scores of young people who flocked to hear him wereas well while listening here as when sleeping quietly under themonotonous voice of the good old minister; and very soon no objectionwas made when his own Evan and Shenac Dhu went with the rest. 

Mr Stewart had changed much since he came among them first. His healthwas broken then, and he was struggling with a fear that he was not to bepermitted to work the work for which he had all his lifetime beenpreparing. That fear had passed away. He was well now, and well-fittedto declare God's gospel to men. It was a labour of love to him, allcould see. The grave, quiet man seemed transformed when he stood in thepulpit He spoke with authority, as one who knew from deep, blessedexperience the things which he made known, and no wonder that alllistened eagerly. 

Hamish was very happy in the renewal of their friendship, and Allisterwas almost as happy in coming to know the minister. He came sometimesto see them, but not very often, for he had many engagements, and hisvisits made "white days" for them all. Hamish saw much more of him thanthe rest, for he was comparatively idle this summer, and drove theminister to his different preaching stations, and on his visits to thepeople, with much profit to himself and much pleasure to both. 

It was a very pleasant summer, for many reasons, to Shenac and them all. The only drawback was the state of the mother. She was not gettingbetter--would probably never be better, the doctor said, whom Allisterhad brought from far to see her. But she might live a long time in herpresent state. She did not suffer, and was almost always quite content. All that the tenderest care could do for her was done, and heruneventful days were made happy by her children's watchful love. 

The entire renewal of confidence and intercourse between the twofamilies was a source of pleasure to all, but especially to Shenac, whohad never been quite able to believe herself forgiven by her unclebefore. Two of Angus Dhu's daughters were married in the spring, andleft their father's house; and partly because she was more needed athome, and partly for other reasons, Shenac Dhu did not run into theirhouse so often as she used to do. But Evan was often there. He andHamish were much together, for neither of them was strong, and much helpwas not expected from them on the land or elsewhere. Evan was hardlywhat he had been before his departure from home. He was improved, theythought, on the whole; but his health was not firm, and his spirits andtemper were variable, and, as Shenac said, he was as different fromAllister as weakness is from strength, or as darkness is from the day. But they were always glad to see him, and his intercourse with thesehealthy, cheerful young people did him much good. 

The new house progressed rapidly. There was a fair prospect that theymight get into it before winter, and already Shenac was planning waysand means towards the furnishing of it. The wool was sorted and dyedwith reference to the making of such a carpet as had never been seen inthose parts before; and every pound of butter that was put down waslooked upon as so much security for a certain number of things for useor for adornment in the new house. For Shenac had a natural love forpretty things, and it was pleasant to feel that she might gratify hertaste to a reasonable degree without hazarding the comfort of any one. 

She made no secret of her pleasure in the prospect of living in a nicehouse with pretty things about her, and discussed her plans andintentions with great enjoyment with her cousin Shenac, who did notlaugh at her little ambitions as much as might have been expected. Indeed, she was rather grave and quiet about this time, and seemed toshun, rather than to seek, these confidences. She was too busy now thatMary and Annie were both gone, to leave home often, and when our Shenacwished to see her she had to go in search of her. It was not quite soformidable an affair as it used to be to go to Angus Dhu's house now, and Shenac and her brother often found themselves there on summerevenings. But at home, as elsewhere, Shenac Dhu was quiet and staid, and not at all like the merry Shenac of former times. 

This change was not noticed by Shenac Bhan so quickly as it would havebeen if she had been less occupied with her own affairs; but she didnotice it at last, and one night, drawing her away from the door-stepwhere the rest were sitting, she told her what she was thinking, andentreated to know what ailed her. 

"What ails me?" repeated Shenac Dhu, reddening a little. "What in theworld should all me? I am busier than I used to be, that is all. "

"You were always busy; it is not that. I think you might tell _me_, Shenac. "

"Well, " began her cousin mysteriously, "I will tell you if you willpromise not to mention it. I am growing wise. "

Shenac Bhan laughed. 

"Well, I don't see what there is to laugh at. It's time for me to growwise, when you are growing foolish. "

Shenac Bhan looked at her cousin a little wistfully. 

"Am I growing foolish, Shenac? Is it about the house and all thethings? Perhaps I am thinking too much about them. But it is not formyself, Shenac; at least, it's not all for myself. "

But Shenac Dhu stopped her. 

"You really _are_ foolish now. No; of course the house has nothing todo with it. I called you foolish for saying that something ails me, which is nonsense, you know. What could ail me? I put it to yourself. "

"But that is what I am asking you. How can I tell? Many a thing mightgo wrong with you, " said Shenac Bhan. 

"Yes; I might take the small-pox, or the bank might break and I mightlose my money, or many a thing might happen, as you say; and whenanything does happen, I'll tell you, you may be sure. Now tell me, isthe wide stripe in the new carpet to be red or green?"

"You are laughing at me, Cousin Shenac, " said our Shenac, gravely. "Idaresay it is foolish in me, and may be wrong, to be thinking so muchabout these things and teasing you about them; but, Shenac, our Allisteris a man now, and folk think much of him, and I want his house to benice, and I do take pleasure in thinking about it. And you know we havebeen so poor and so hard pressed for the last few years, with no time tothink of anything but just what must be done to live; and it will be sonice when we are fairly settled. And, Shenac, our Allister is so good. There never was such a brother as Allister--never. I would not speak soto every one, Shenac; but _you_ know. "

Shenac Dhu nodded. "Yes, I know. "

"If my mother were only well!" continued Shenac Bhan, and the tears thathad risen to her eyes fell on her cheeks now. "We would be too happythen, I suppose. But it seems sad enough that she should not be able toenjoy it all, and take her own place in the new house, after all she hasgone through. "

"Yes, " said Shenac Dhu, "it is very sad. "

"And yet I cannot but take pleasure in it; and perhaps it is foolish andunkind to my mother too. Is it, Shenac?"

There were two or three pairs of eyes watching--no, not watching, butseeing--the two girls from the doorstep, and Shenac Dhu drew her cousindown the garden-path towards the plum-tree before she answered her. Then she put her arms round her neck, and kissed her two or three timesbefore she answered, --

"You are not wrong or foolish. You are right to take pride and pleasurein your brother and his house, and in all that belongs to him. And heis just as proud of you, Shenac, my darling. "

"That is nonsense, you know, Cousin Shenac, " said Allister's sister; butshe smiled and blushed too, as she said it, with pure pleasure. 

There was no chance after this to say anything more about the change, real or supposed, that had taken place in Shenac Dhu, for she talked on, allowing no pause till they had come quite round the garden and back tothe door-step; but Shenac Bhan knew all about it before she saw hercousin again. 

That night, as she was going home through the field with Allister, heasked her rather suddenly, --

"What were you and Cousin Shenac speaking about to-night when you wentround the garden?"

"Allister, " said his sister, "do you think Cousin Shenac is changedlately?"

"Changed!" repeated Allister. "How?"

"Oh, of course you cannot tell; but she used to be so merry, and now sheis quite quiet and grave, and we hardly ever see her over with us now. I was asking her what ailed her. "

"And what did she say?"

"Oh, she laughed at me, and denied that anything ailed her, and then shesaid she was growing wise. But I know something is wrong with her, though she would not tell me. "

"What do you think it is, Shenac?"

"I cannot tell. It is not only that she is quieter--I could understandthat; but she hardly ever comes over now, and something is vexing her, I'm sure. Could it be anything Dan has said? He used to vex hersometimes. What do you think it can be, Allister?"

There was a little pause, and then Allister said, --

"I think I know what it is, Shenac. "

"You!" exclaimed Shenac. "What is it? Have I anything to do with it?Am I to blame?"

"You have something to do with it, but you are not to blame, " saidAllister. 

"Tell me, Allister, " said his sister. 

There was a silence of several minutes, and then Allister said, --

"Shenac, I have asked Cousin Shenac to be my wife. " Shenac stoodperfectly still in her surprise and dismay. Yes, she _ was_ dismayed. I have heard it said that the tidings of a brother's engagement rarelybring unmixed pleasure to a sister. I daresay there is some truth inthis. Many sisters make their brothers their first object in life--pride themselves on their talents, their worth, their success, live intheir lives, glory in their triumphs; till a day comes when it is softlysaid of some stranger, or some friend--it may be none the pleasanter tohear because it is a friend--"She is more to him than you could everbe. " Is it only to jealous hearts, ignoble minds, that such tidingscome with a shock of pain? Nay, the truer the heart the keener thepain. It may be short, but it is sharp. The second thought may be, "Itis well for him; I am glad for him. " But the pang is first, andinevitable. 

Allister had been always first, after Hamish, in Shenac's heart--perhapsnot even after Hamish. She had never thought of him in connection withany change of this kind. In all her plans for the future, no thought ofpossible separation had come. She stood perfectly still, till herbrother touched her. 

"Well, Shenac?"

Then she moved on without speaking. She was searching about among herastonished and dismayed thoughts for something to say, for she felt thatAllister was waiting for her to speak. At last she made a grasp at thequestion they had been discussing, and said hurriedly, --

"But there is nothing to vex Shenac in that, surely?"

"No; unless she is right in thinking that you will not be glad too. "

"I am glad it is Shenac. I would rather it would be Shenac than any oneelse in the whole world--"

"I was sure of it, " said her brother, kissing her fondly. 

Even without the kiss she would hardly have had the courage to add, --

"If it must be anyone. "

"And, Shenac, " continued her brother, "you must tell her so. Shefancies that for some things you will not like it, and she wants to putit off for ever so long--till--till something happens--till you aremarried yourself, I suppose. "

Now Shenac was vexed. She was in the way--at least, Allister and ShenacDhu thought so. It was quite as well that the sound of footsteps gaveher no time to speak the words that rose to her lips. They wereovertaken by Mr Stewart and Hamish. It had been to see the ministerthat they had all gone to Angus Dhu's, for he was going away in themorning, and they did not know when they might see him again. It waslate, and the farewells were brief and earnest. 

"God bless you, Shenac!" was all that Mr Stewart said; and Shenacanswered never a word. 

"I'll walk a little way with you, " said Allister. Hamish and Shenacstood watching them till they passed through the gate, and then Shenacsat down on the doorstep with a sigh, and laid her face upon her hands. Hamish looked a little astonished, but he smiled too. 

"He will come back again, Shenac, " he said at last. 

"Yes, I know, " said she, rising slowly. "I must tell you before hecomes. We must not stay here. Come in; you will take cold. I don'tknow what to think. He expected me to be pleased, and I shall be in alittle while, I think, after I have told you. Do you know it, Hamish?"

"I know--he told me; but I thought he had not spoken to you, " said thepuzzled Hamish. 

"Did Allister tell you? Are you glad, Hamish?"

"Allister?" repeated Hamish. 

"Allister has asked Shenac Dhu to be his wife, " said Shenac in awhisper. 

"Is that it? No, I had not heard that, though I thought it might be--some time. You must have seen it, Shenac?"

"Seen it! the thought never came into my mind--never once--till he toldme to-night. "

"Well, that's odd, too, " said Hamish, smiling. "They say girls arequick enough to see such things. Are you not pleased, Shenac?"

"I don't know. Should I be pleased, Hamish? I think perhaps in alittle while I shall be. " Then she added, "It will make a greatdifference. "

"Will it?" asked Hamish. "Cousin Shenac has almost been like one ofourselves so long. "

"I suppose it is foolish, and maybe it is wrong, but it does seem to putAllister farther from us--from me, at least. He seems less our own. "

"Don't say that, Shenac dear, " said her brother gently. "Allister cannever be less than a dear and loving brother to us all. It is verynatural and right that this should happen. It might have been astranger. We all love Shenac Dhu dearly. "

"Yes, " said Shenac; "I said that to Allister. "

"And, Shenac, I am very glad this should happen. Allister will settledown content, and be a good and useful man. "

"He would have done that anyway, " said Shenac, a little dolefully. 

"He might, but he might not, " said Hamish. "They say marriage is thenatural and proper state. I am glad for Allister, Shenac; and you willbe glad by-and-by. I wish I had known this a little sooner. I am veryglad, Shenac. "

Shenac sighed. "I suppose it is altogether mean and miserable in me notto be glad all at once; and I'll try to be. I suppose we must stay herenow, Hamish, " she added, glancing round the low room. 

"Do you think so?" said Hamish in surprise. "No, you must not say so. I am sure it would grieve Cousin Shenac. "

"There are so many of us, Hamish, and our mother is a great care; itwould not be fair to Shenac. I must stay here and take care of mymother and you. "

There was a long silence. 

"Shenac, " said her brother at last, "don't think about this just now;don't make up your mind. It is not going to happen soon. "

"Allister says soon, but Shenac says not till--" She stopped. 

"Well, soon or late, never mind; it will all come right. Let us be moreanxious to do right than for anything else. God will guide us, Shenac. Don't let us say anything to vex Allister. It would vex him greatly, Iknow, to think that you and all of us would not go with him and Shenac. "

"But it would not be fair to Shenac herself. Think what a large familythere is of us. "

"Whisht, Shenac, there may be fewer of us soon. You may marryyourself. "

"And leave my mother and you?" Shenac smiled incredulously. 

"Stranger things have happened, " said her brother. "But, Shenac, ourmother will not be here long, and Allister's house is her place, and youcan care for her all the same there--better indeed. I am glad of thismarriage, for all our sakes. Shenac Dhu is like one of ourselves; shewill always care for the little ones as no stranger could, and for ourmother. It _is_ a little hard that _you_ should not have the firstplace in the new house for a while, till you get a home of your own, after all the care and trouble you have had for us here--"

"Do you think that has anything to do with it, Hamish?" said Shenacreproachfully. "It never came into my mind; only when Allister told meit seemed as though I would be so little to him now. Maybe you areright, though. Everybody seems to think that I like to be first. Iknow I have thought a great deal about the new house; but it has beenfor the rest, and for Allister most of all. "

"Shenac, you must not vex yourself thinking about it, " said her brother. "I am more glad of this for your sake than for all the rest. I cannottell you how glad I am. "

"Well, I am glad too--I think I am glad; I think it will be all right, Hamish. I am not really afraid of anything that can happen now. "

"You need not be, dear; why should you be afraid even of trouble?" saidher brother. "And this is not trouble, but a great blessing for usall. "

But Shenac thought about it a great deal, and, I am afraid, vexedherself somewhat, too. She did not see Shenac Dhu for a day or two, forher cousin was away; and it was as well to have a little time to thinkabout it before she saw her. There came no order out of the confusion, however, with all her thinking. That they were all to be one family sheknew was Allister's plan, and Hamish approved it, though the brothershad not exchanged a word about the matter. But this did not seem thebest plan to her, nor did she think it would seem so to her cousin; itwas not best for any of them. She could do far better for her mother, and Hamish too, living quietly in their present home; and the youngpeople would be better without them. Of course they must get theirliving from the farm, at least partly; but she could do many things toearn something. She could spin and knit, and she would get a loom andlearn to weave, and little Flora should help her. 

"If Allister would only be convinced; but they will think I am vexedabout the house, and I don't think I really cared much about it formyself--it was for Allister and the rest. Oh, if my mother were onlyable to decide it, I do think she would agree with me about it. "

She thought and thought till she was weary, and it all came to this:--

"I will wait and see what will happen, and I will trust. Surely nothingcan go wrong when God guides us. At any rate, I shall say nothing tovex Allister or Shenac; but I wish it was well over. "

It was the first visit to Shenac Dhu which, partly from shyness andpartly from some other feeling, she did dread a little; but she need nothave feared it so much. She did not have to put a constraint on herselfto _seem_ glad; for the very first glimpse she caught of Shenac's sweet, kind face put all her vexed thoughts to flight, and she was really andtruly glad for Allister and for herself too. 

She went to her uncle's one night, not at all expecting to see hercousin; but she had returned sooner than was expected, and when she wentin she found her sitting with her father and Allister. Shenac did notsee her brother, however. She hastily greeted her uncle, and goingstraight to her cousin put her arms round her neck and kissed her manytimes. Shenac Dhu looked up in surprise. 

"I know it now, Cousin Shenac, " said Allister's sister; and in a momentAllister's arms were round them both. It was Angus Dhu's turn to besurprised now. He had not been so startled since the day that ShenacBhan told him her mind down by the creek. The girls escaped, andAllister explained how matters stood. The old man was pleased, but hegrumbled a little, too, at the thought of losing his last daughter. 

"You must make an exchange, Allister, my man. If you could give us yourShenac--"

Allister laughed. In his heart he thought his sister too good to besent there, and he was very glad he had not the matter to decide. 

"Shenac, my woman, " said the old man as they were going away, "I wonderat you being so willing to give up the fine new house. I think it isvery good in you. "

"I would not--to anybody else, " said she, laughing. 

"But she's not going to give it up, father, " said Shenac Dhu eagerly. 

"Well, well, maybe not, if you can keep her. "

Shenac still pondered over the question of what would be best for themall, and wearied herself with it many a time; but she gave none the lessinterest to the progress of the house and its belongings. She spun thewool for the carpet, and bleached the new linen to snowy whiteness, andmade all other preparations just the same as if she were to have theguiding and governing of the household. She was glad with Allister andglad with Shenac, and, for herself and the rest, quite content to waitand see what time would bring to pass. 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN. 

But a day came when Shenac saw how needless all her anxious thoughtsabout her mother's future had been, when she acknowledged, with tears ofmingled sorrow and joy, that she had tenderer care and safer keepingthan son or daughter could give. 

All through the long harvest-days the mother failed slowly--so slowlythat even the watchful eyes of Shenac did not see how surely. Then, asthe autumn wore away, and the increasing cold no longer permitted thedaily sitting in the sunshine, the change became more rapid. Then therewas a time of sharper suffering. The long days and nights lingered outinto weeks, and then all suffering was over--the tired heart ceased tostruggle with the burden of life, and the widow was laid to rest besideher husband and son. 

That this was a time of great sorrow in the household need not be told. Neighbours came from far and near with offers of help and sympathy. Allthat kind hearts and experienced hands could do to aid these youngpeople in the care of their suffering mother was done; but all was onlya little. It was the strong arm of Allister which lifted and laid down, and moved unceasingly, the never-resting form of the mother. It wasShenac who smoothed her pillow and moistened her lips, and performed allthe numberless offices so necessary to the sick, yet too often souseless to soothe pain. It was the voice of Hamish that sometimes hadthe power to soothe to quietness, if not to repose, the ever-moaningsufferer. Friends came with counsel and encouragement, but her childrennever left her through all. It was a terrible time to them. Theirmother's failure had been so gradual that the thought of her death hadnot been forced upon them; and, quite unaccustomed to the sight of sogreat suffering, as the days and nights wore on, bringing no change, norespite, but ever the same moaning and agony, they looked into oneanother's faces appalled. It was terrible; but it came to an end atlast. They could not sorrow for her when the close came. They rejoicedrather that she had found rest. But they were motherless and desolate. 

It was a very hushed and sorrowful home that night, when all the friendswho had returned with them from the grave were gone, and the childrenwere alone together; and for many days after that. If this trouble hadcome upon them a year ago, there would have been some danger that thesilence and sadness that rested upon them might have changed to gloomand despondency on Shenac's part; for she felt that her mother's deathhad "unsettled old foundations, " and when she looked forward to what herlife might be now, it was not always that she could do so hopefully. But she was quiet and not impatient--willing to wait and see what timemight bring to them all. 

By-and-by the affairs of the house and of the farm fell back into theold routine, and life flowed quietly on. The new house made progress. It was so nearly completed that they had intended to remove to it aboutthe time their mother became worse. The work went on through all theirtime of trouble, and one after another the workmen went away; butnothing was said of any change to be made, till the year was drawing toa close. It was Hamish who spoke of it then, first to Shenac and thento Allister; and before Christmas they were quite settled in their newhome. 

Christmas passed, and the new year came in, and a month or two more wentby, and then one night Shenac said to her brother, --

"Allister, when are you going to bring Shenac home?"

Allister had been the gravest and quietest of them all during the timethat had passed since their mother's death. He was silent, though hestarted a little when his sister spoke. In a moment she came close tohim, and standing behind him, laid her hand on his shoulder, and saidsoftly, --

"It would be no disrespect to the memory of our mother, coming now. Hamish says so too. Shenac is not like a stranger; and it might be veryquiet. " Allister turned and touched with his lips the hand that lay onhis shoulder, and then drew her down on the seat beside him. This wasone of the things which made Allister so different from other people inShenac's eyes. Even Hamish, loving and kind as he was, had notAllister's gentle, caressing ways. A touch, a smile, a fond word, cameso naturally from him; and these were all the more sweet to Shenacbecause she was shy of giving such tokens herself, even where she lovedbest. 

"If Shenac would come, " said Allister. 

Shenac smiled. "And will she not?"

"Should I ask it now, dear?"

"Yes, I think so, " said his sister gravely. "The spring will soon behere, and the busy time. I think it should be soon. Have you spoken toShenac since?"

"No; I have not. Though I may wish it, and Shenac might consent, thereis more to be thought of. We will not have you troubled, after all youhave gone through, till you are quite ready for it--you and Hamish. "

"But surely Shenac cannot doubt I will speak to her myself; and I thinkit should be soon, " said his sister. 

They were sitting in the new, bright kitchen, and it was growing dark. There was a stove in it, one of the latest kind, for use; but there wasa great wide fireplace too, for pleasure; and all the light that was inthe room came from the great maple logs and glowing embers. LittleFlora had gone to the mill with Dan, Hamish was at his uncle's, and theother lads were not come in; so they had the house to themselves. Therewas silence between them for a little while, and then his sister saidagain, --

"I'll speak to Shenac. "

The chance to do so was nearer than she thought; for there was a touchat the door-latch, and a voice said softly, --

"Are you here, Cousin Shenac? I want to speak to you. Hamish told meyou were quite alone. "

"Yes, she's quite alone, except me. " And Allister made one strideacross the floor, and Shenac Dhu was held fast. She could not havestruggled from that gentle and firm clasp, and she did not try. 

"I thought you were at The Sixteenth, Allister, " said she. "I wasthere, but I am here now. And our Shenac wants to speak to you. "

He brought her to the fire-light, where our Shenac was waiting, a littleshyly--that is, Shenac waited shyly. Allister brought the other Shenacforward, not at all shyly, quite triumphantly, indeed, and then ourShenac said softly, --

"When are you coming home, sister Shenac?"

With that the startled little creature gave one look into our Shenac'sface, and breaking from Allister's gentle hold, she clasped her roundthe neck, and wept and sobbed in a way that astonished them more than alittle. For indeed there was no cause for tears, said Shenac Bhan; andindeed she was very foolish to cry, said Allister--though there weretears in his own eyes; and as for Shenac Bhan, the tears did not stay inher eyes, but ran down over her face and fell on the soft black braidsof the other Shenac's bowed head; for joy will make tears fall as wellas sorrow sometimes, and joy and sorrow mingled is the source of these. 

But indeed, indeed, I never thought of telling all this. When I beganmy story I never meant to put a word of love or marriage in it. I meantto end it at the happy day when Allister came home. But all Shenac'swork at home was not done when her good and loving brother took theplace she had filled so well. So my story has gone on, and will go on alittle longer; though that night, when Shenac Dhu went away and Allisterwent with her, leaving Shenac Bhan to her own thoughts, she said toherself that very soon there would be nothing more for her to do. Allister and Shenac Dhu would care for the little ones better than sheever could have done; for the lads were wilful often, and sometimes herpatience failed, and Allister would make men of them--wise, and strong, and gentle, like himself. And Shenac, sweet, kind, merry Shenac Dhu, would never be hard with the lads or little Flora, for she loved themdearly; and it would be better for the children just to have Allisterand Shenac Dhu, and no elder sister to appeal to from them. It would bebetter that she should go away--at least for a little while, till otherauthority than hers should be established. 

Yes; her work for the children was done. She said it over and overagain, repeating that it was better so, and that she was glad andthankful that all would be so well. But she said it with many a tearand many a sigh and sob; for, having no experience of life beyond herlong labour and care for them, it seemed to this foolish Shenac thatreally and truly her life's work was done. No, she did not say it inwords, even to herself; but the future looked blank and bare to her. Any future that seemed possible to her looked rather dark than bright;and she feared--oh, so much!--to take her destiny in her hands and goaway alone. 

But not a word of all this had been spoken to Allister and Shenac Dhu. Not even Hamish had been told of her plans. No, not her plans--she hadnone--but the vague blending of wishes and fears that came with all herthoughts of the future. There would be time enough by-and-by to tellhim; and, indeed, Shenac was a little afraid to let the light of herbrother's sense and wisdom in on all her thoughts. For Hamish had a wayof putting things in a light that made them look quite different. Sometimes this made her laugh, and sometimes it vexed her; but, whetheror not, the chances were she would come round in time to see things ashe saw them. 

And, besides, there was something in this matter that she could not tellto Hamish--at least, it seemed to her that she could not, even if itwould be right and kind to do so; and without this she feared that herwish to go away from home might not commend itself to him. Indeed, ifit had not been for this thing which could not be told, she might nothave wished to leave home. She would hardly have found courage to breakaway from them all and go to a new, untried life, of her own free will, even though her work at home were done. 

This was the thing which Shenac thought she never could tell even toHamish. One night, on her way home from his house, she had been waylaidby Angus Dhu, and startled out of measure by a request, nay, anentreaty, that "she would be kind to poor Evan. " Then the old man hadgone on to say how welcome she would be if she would come home and bethe daughter of the house when his Shenac went to Allister. He told herhow fondly she should be cherished by them all, and how everythingwithin and without should be ordered according to her will; for he wassure that union with one of her firm yet gentle nature was just what wasneeded to make a good man of his wayward lad. She had listened, becauseshe could not break away, wishing all the time that the earth would openand that she might creep away into the fissure and get out of sight. For, indeed, she had never thought of such a thing as that. Nor Evaneither, she was sure--she thought--she did not know. Oh, well, perhapshe had thought of it, and had tried to make it known to her in hisfoolish way. But she never really would have found it out or thoughtabout it if his father had not spoken; and now she would never be ableto think about anything else in the presence of either. 

It was too bad, and wrong, and miserable, and uncomfortable, and I don'tknow what else, she said to herself, for it could never be--never. Andyet, why not? It would seem natural enough to people generally; heraunt would like it, her uncle's heart was set on it, and Allister andShenac Dhu would be pleased. Even Hamish would not object. And Evanhimself? Oh, no; it could never be. She would never care for him inthat way. He was not like Allister, nor like any one she cared for--sodifferent from--from--Shenac was sitting alone in the dark, but shesuddenly dropped her face in her hands. For quite unbidden, with ashock of surprise and pain that made her heart stand still for a moment, and then set it beating wildly, a name had come to her lips--the name ofone so wise and good in her esteem that to speak it at such a time, evenin her thoughts, seemed desecration. 

"I am growing foolish, I think, with all this vexation and nonsense; andI won't think about it any more. I have enough to keep me busy tillShenac Dhu comes home, and then I'll have it out with Hamish. "

The wedding was a very quiet one. It was hardly a wedding at all, saidthe last-married sisters, who had gone away amid feasting and music. There was no groomsman nor bridesmaid, for Shenac Bhan could hardlystand in her black dress, and Shenac Dhu would have no one else; andthere were no guests out of the two families. Old Mr Farquharson cameup one morning, and it was "put over quietly, " as Angus Dhu said; andafter dinner, which might have served half the township both forquantity and quality, Allister and his bride went away for their weddingtrip, which was only to the town of M--- to see Christie More and make afew purchases. They were to be away a week--certainly no longer--andthen the new life was to begin. 

Shenac Bhan stood watching till they were out of sight; and then shestood a little longer, wondering whether she might not go straight homewithout turning into the house. No; she could not. They were allexpected to stay the rest of the day and have tea, and visit with hercousins, who lived at some distance, and had been little in theirfather's house since they went to their own. 

"Mind you are not to stay away, Hamish, bhodach, " whispered Shenac, asthey turned towards the house; and Hamish, who had been thinking of it, considered himself in honour bound to return after he had gone to seethat all was right at home. 

It was not so very bad, after all. The two young wives were full oftheir own affairs, and compared notes about the butter and cheese-makingwhich they had carried on during the summer, and talked about flanneland full-cloth and the making of blankets in a way that must have settheir mother's heart at rest about their future as notablehouse-keepers. And Shenac Bhan listened and joined, seemingly muchinterested, but wondering all the time why she did not care a pin aboutit all. Flannel and full-cloth, made with much labour and pains, as themeans of keeping Hamish and little Flora and the lads from the cold, hadbeen matters of intense interest; and butter put down, and cheesedisposed of, as the means of getting sugar and tea and other thingsnecessary to the comfort of her mother and the rest, had been prized totheir utmost value. But flannel and full-cloth, butter and cheese, werein themselves, or as a means of wealth, matters of indifference. Allister's good heart and strong arm were between them and a strugglefor these things now; and that made the difference. 

But, as she sat listening and wondering, Shenac did not understand allthis, and felt vexed and mortified with herself at the change. Annieand Mary, her cousins, were content to look forward to a long routine ofspinning and weaving, dairy-work and house-work, and all the rest. Whyshould she not do the same? She used to do so. No; she used to workwithout looking forward. She could do so still, if there were any needfor it--any good in it--if it were to come to anything. But to work onfor yards of flannel and pounds of butter that Flora and the rest, andall the world indeed, would be just as well without--the thought of thatwas not pleasant. 

She grew impatient of her thoughts, as well as the talk, at last, andwent to help her aunt to set out the table for tea. This was better. She could move about and chat with her concerning the cream-cheese madefor the occasion, and of the cake made by Shenac Dhu from a recipe sentby Christie More, of which her mother had stood in doubt till it wascut, but no longer. Then there were the new dishes of the bride, whichgraced the table--pure white, with just a little spray of blue. Theywere quite beautiful, Shenac thought. Then her aunt let her into thesecret of a second set of knives and forks--very handsome, which eventhe bride herself had not seen yet; and so on till Hamish came in withAngus Dhu. Then Shenac could have cried with vexation, she felt soawkward and uncomfortable under the old man's watchful, well-pleasedeye; and when Evan and the two Dans came in it was worse. She laidhands on a long grey stocking, her aunt's work, and betook herself tothe corner where Annie and Mary were still talking more earnestly thanever. She startled them by the eagerness with which she questionedfirst one and then the other as to the comparative merits of madderand--something else--for dyeing red. It was a question of vitalimportance to her, one might have supposed, and it was taken upaccordingly. Mrs McLay thought the other thing was best--gave much thebrighter colour; but Mrs McRea declared for the madder, because, instead of fading, it grew prettier the longer it was worn and theoftener it was washed. But each had enough to say about it; and thislasted till the lads and little Flora came in from their play, andShenac busied herself with them till tea was ready. After tea they hadworship, and sung a little while, and then they went home. 

"Oh, what a long day this has been!" said Shenac, as they came in. 

"Yes; I fancied you were a little weary of it all, " said Hamish. 

"It would be terrible to be condemned to do nothing but visit all one'slife. It is the hardest work I ever undertook--this doing nothing, "said Shenac. 

Hamish laughed. 

"Well, there is comfort in knowing that you have not had much of thatkind of work to do in your lifetime, and are not likely to have. "

There were several things to attend to after coming home, and by thetime all these were out of the way the children had gone to bed, andHamish and Shenac were alone. 

"I may as well speak to Hamish to-night, " said Shenac to herself. "Ohdear! I wish it were well over. If Hamish says it is right to go, Ishall be sure I am right, and I shall not be afraid. But I must go--Ithink it will be right to go--whether Hamish thinks so or not. Hamishcan do without me; but how shall I ever do without him?"

She sat looking into the fire, trying to think how she should begin, andstarted a little when Hamish said, --

"Well, Shenac, what is it? You have something to tell me. "

"I am going to ask you something, " said his sister gravely. "Do youthink it is wrong for me to wish to go away from home--for a while, Imean?"

"From home? Why? When? Where? It all depends on these things, " saidHamish, laughing a little. 

"Hamish, what should I do?" asked his sister earnestly. "I cannot domuch good by staying here, can I? Ought I to stay? Don't tell me thatI ought not to go away--that you have never thought of such a thing. "

"No, I cannot tell you that, Shenac; for I have thought a great dealabout it; and I believe you ought to go--though what we are to dowithout you is more than I can tell. "

So there were to be no objections from Hamish. She said to herself thatwas good, and she was glad; but her heart sank a little too, and she wassilent. 

"You have been thinking about us and caring for us all so long, it istime we were thinking what is good for you, " said Hamish. 

"You are laughing at me, Hamish. "

"No, I am not. I think it would be very nice for us if you would becontent to stay at home and do for us all as you have been doing; but itwould not be best for you. "

"It would be best for me if it were needful, " said Shenac eagerly; "but, Hamish, it is not much that I could do here now. I mean Allister andShenac Dhu will care for you all; and just what I could do with my handsis not much. Anybody could do it. "

"And you think you could do higher work somewhere else?"

"Not higher work, Hamish. But I think there must be work somewhere thatI could do better--more successfully--than I can do on the farm. Evenwhen I was doing most, before Allister came, Dan could go before me whenhe cared to do it. And he did it so easily, forgetting it all themoment it was out of his hand; while I vexed myself and grew wearyoften, with planning and thinking of what was done and what was still todo. I often feel now it was a wild thing in us to think of carrying onthe farm by ourselves. If I had known all, I would hardly have been sobold with Angus Dhu that day. "

"But it all ended well. You did not undertake more than you carriedthrough, " said Hamish. 

"No; it kept us all together. But, Hamish, I often think that Allistercame home just in time. If it had gone on much longer, I must eitherhave given out or become an earth-worm at last, with no thought but howto slave and save and turn everything to account. "

"I don't think that would ever have happened, Shenac, " said her brother. "But I think it was well for us all, and especially for you, thatAllister came home just when he did. "

"I don't mean that field-labour may not in some cases be woman's work. For a girl living at home, of course, it must be right to help inwhatever way help is needed; but I don't think it is the work a womanshould choose, except just to help with the rest. Surely I can learn todo something else. If I were to go to Christie More, she could find aplace of some kind for me. Don't you mind, Hamish, what she once saidabout our going with her to M---, you and me? Oh, if we could only gotogether!"

But Hamish shook his head. 

"No, Shenac. It would be useless for me. I must be far stronger than Iam now to undertake anything of that kind. And you must not be in ahurry to get away. You must not let Shenac think you are running awayfrom her. Wait a while. A month or two will make no difference, and bythat time the way will open before us. I don't like the thought of yourtaking any place that Christie More could get for you. You will be farbetter at home for a while. "

"But, Hamish, you really think it will be better for me to go?"

"Yes--some time. Why should you be in haste? Is there any reason thatyou have not told me why you should wish to go?"

Shenac did not answer for a moment. 

"Is it about Evan, Shenac?" asked her brother. "That could never be, Isuppose. "

"Who told you, Hamish? No; I think it could never be. Allister wouldlike it, and Shenac Dhu; and I suppose to folk generally it would seem agood thing for me. But I don't like Evan in that way. No, I don'tthink it could ever be. "

"Evan will be a rich man some day, Shenac; and you could have it allyour own way there. "

"Yes; Allister said that to me once. They all seem to think I wouldlike to rule and to be rich. But I did not think you would advise mebecause of that, Hamish, or because Evan will be a rich man. "

"I am not advising you, Shenac, " said Hamish eagerly. "If you cared forEvan it would be different; but I am very glad you do not. "

"I might come to care for him in time, " said Shenac, a little wearily. "But I never thought about him in that way till--till Angus Dhu spoke tome. "

"Angus Dhu!" exclaimed Hamish. 

"Yes--and frightened me out of my wits, " said Shenac, laughing a little. "I never answered a word, and maybe he thinks that I am willing. Allister spoke about it too. Would it please you, Hamish? I might cometo like him well enough, in time. "

"No, Shenac. It would by no means please me. I am very glad you do notcare for Evan--in that way. I would not like to see you Evan's wife. "

There was not much said after that, though they sat a long time togetherin the firelight. 

"Did I tell you that I had a letter from Mr Stewart to-day, Shenac?"Hamish asked at last. 

"No, " said Shenac; "was he well?"

"He has a call to be minister of the church in H---, and he is to gothere soon; and he says if he can possibly do it he will come this way. It will be in six weeks or two months, if he comes at all. "

Shenac said nothing to this; but when Hamish had added a few moreparticulars, she said, --

"Perhaps it may seem foolish, Hamish, but I want to go soon. "

"Because of Evan?" asked her brother. 

"Partly; or rather, because of Angus Dhu, " she said, laughing. "AndAllister and Shenac would like it. "

"But they would never urge it against your will. "

"No; I suppose not. But it is uncomfortable; and, Hamish, it is notimpossible that I might let myself be persuaded. "

Hamish looked grave. 

"I don't know but it is the best thing that could happen to me, " Shenaccontinued. "I am not fit for any other life, I am afraid. But I mustgo away for a while at any rate. "

Hamish said nothing, though he looked as if he had something to say. 

"If you are willing, Hamish, it will go far to satisfy Allister. And Ican come back again if I should find nothing to do. "

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. 

But Shenac's work at home was not all done yet. Sitting that night bythe fireside with her brother, could she have got a glimpse of the nextfew months and all they were to bring about, her courage might havefailed her; for sorrowful as some of the past days had been, moresorrowful days were awaiting her--sorrowful days, yet sweet, and veryprecious in remembrance. 

A very quiet and happy week passed, and then Allister and his wife camehome. There was some pleasure-seeking then, in a quiet way; for thenewly-married pair were entertained by their friends, and there were afew modest gatherings in the new house, and the hands of the two Shenacswere full with the preparations, and with the arrangement of newfurniture, and making all things as they ought to be in the new house. 

But in the midst of the pleasant bustle Hamish fell ill. It was notmuch, they all thought--a cold only, which proved rather obstinate andwithstood all the mild attempts made with herb-drinks and applicationsto remove it. But they were not alarmed about it. Even when the doctorwas sent for, even when he came again of his own accord, and yet again, they were not much troubled. For Hamish had been so much better all thewinter. He had had no return of his old rheumatic pains. He would soonbe well again, they all said, --except himself; and he said nothing. They were inclined to make light of his present illness, rejoicing thathe was no longer racked with the terrible pains that in former wintershad made his nights sleepless and his days a weariness. He sufferednow, especially at first, but not as he had suffered then. 

All through March he kept his bed, and through April he kept his room;but he was comfortable, comparatively--only weak, very weak. He couldread, and listen to reading, and enjoy the family conversation; and hisroom became the place where, in the gloaming, all dropped in to have aquiet time. This room had been called during the building of the house"the mother's room, " but when Hamish became ill it was fitted up forhim. It was a pleasant room, having a window which looked towards thesouth over the finest fields of the farm, and one which looked west, where the sun went down in glory, over miles and miles of unbrokenforest. 

Even now, though years have passed since then, Shenac, shutting hereyes, can see again the fair picture which that western window framed. There is the mingling of gorgeous colours--gold, and crimson, andpurple, fading into paler tints above. There is the glory of theilluminated forest, and on this side the long shadows of the trees uponthe hills. Within, there is the beautiful pale face, radiant with alight which is not all reflected from the glory without--her brother'sdying face. 

Now, when troubles come, when fightings without and fears within assailher, when household cares make her weary, and the thought of guidingwayward hearts and wandering feet makes her afraid, the remembrance ofthis room comes back to her as the remembrance of Bethel or Peniel musthave come to Jacob in his after-wanderings, and her strength is renewed. For there _she_ met God face to face. There she was _smitten_, andthere the same hand healed her. There she tasted the sweetness of thecup of bitterness which God puts to the lips of those of his childrenwho humbly and willingly, through grace which he gives, drink it to thedregs. The memory of that room and the western window is like thememory of the stone which the prophet set up--"The stone of help. "

"I will trust, and not be afraid. "

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I willfear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfortme. "

The words seem to come again from the dear dying lips; and as they weresurely his to trust to, to lean on when nought else could avail, so inall times of trouble Shenac knows that they are most surely hers. 

But much sorrow came before the joy. March passed, and April, andMay-day came, warm and bright this year again; and for the first timefor many weeks Hamish went out-of-doors. He did not go far; just downto the creek, now flowing full again, to sit a little in the sunshine, with a plaid about his shoulders and another under his feet. It waspleasant to feel the wind in his face. All the sights and sounds ofspring were pleasant to him--the gurgle of the water, the purple tingeon the woods, the fields growing fair with a tender green. 

Allister left the plough in the furrow, and came striding down the longfield, just to say it was good to see him there. Dan shouted, "Welldone, Hamish, lad!" in the distance; and little Flora risked being toolate for the school, in her eagerness to gather a bunch of springflowers for him. As for Shenac, she was altogether triumphant. Therewas no cloud of care darkening the brightness of her loving eyes, nofear from the past or for the future resting on her face. Looking ather, and at his fair little sister tying up her treasures for him, Hamish for a moment longed--oh, so earnestly!--to live, for their sakes. 

Hidden away among Flora's most precious treasures is a faded bunch ofspring-flowers, tied with a thread broken from the fringe of the plaidon which her brother sat that day; and looking at them now, she knowsthat when Hamish took them from her hand, and kissed and blessed herwith loving looks, it was with the thought in his heart of the longparting drawing near. But she did not dream of it then, nor did Shenac. He watched with wistful eyes the little figure dancing over the fieldand down the road, saying softly as she disappeared, --

"I would like to live a little while, for their sakes. "

Shenac did not catch the true sense of his words, and mistaking him, shesaid eagerly, --

"Ah, yes, if we could manage it--you and Flora and I. Allister mighthave the lads; he will make men of them. I am not wise enough norpatient enough. But you and Flora and I--it would be so nice for us tolive together till we grow old. " And Shenac cast longing looks towardsthe little log-house where they had lived so long and so happily. 

But Hamish shook his head. "I doubt it can never be, my Shenac. "

"No, I suppose not, " said Shenac, with a sigh; "for Allister is to takedown the old house--the dear old shelter--to make the garden larger. Heis an ambitious lad, our Allister, " she added laughing, "and means tohave a place worthy of the chief of the clan. But, somewhere and sometime, we'll have a wee house together, Hamish--you and I and Flora. Don't shake your wise head, lad. There is nothing that may not happen--some time. 

"Do you remember, Hamish, " she continued (and her voice grew low andawed as she said it)--"do you remember the night you were so ill? I didnot say it to you, but I feared that night that you were going to die, and I said to myself, if God would spare you to my prayers, I wouldnever doubt nor despond again; I would trust God always. And I will. "

"But, Shenac, what else could you do but trust God if I were to die?"asked her brother gravely. "My living or dying would make no differenceas to that. "

"But, Hamish, that is not what I mean. It may seem a bold thing to say, but I think God heard my prayer that night, and spared you to us; and itwould seem so wrong, so ungrateful, to doubt now. All will be for thebest now, I am sure, now that he has raised you up again. "

"For a little while, " said Hamish softly. "But, Shenac, all will be forthe best, whether I live or die. You do not need me to tell you that, Iam sure. "

"But you _are_ better, " said Shenac eagerly, a vague trouble stirring ather heart. 

"Surely I am better. But that is not the question. I want you to sayto me that you will trust and not be afraid even if I were to die, Shenac, my darling. Think where your peace and strength come from, think of Him in whom you trust; and what difference can the staying orgoing of one like me make, if He is with you?"

For just a moment it was clear to Shenac how true this was--how safethey are whom God keeps, how much better than a brother's love is thelove divine, which does not shield from all suffering, but which mostsurely saves from all real evil. 

"Yes, Hamish, " she said humbly, "I see it. But, oh, I am glad you arebetter again!"

But was he really better? Shenac asked herself the question many a timein the days that followed. For the May that had come in so brightlywas, after all, a dreary month. There were some cold days and somerainy days, and never a day, till June came, that was mild enough forHamish to venture out again. And when he did, it was not on the hillockby the creek where Shenac spread the plaid, but close to the end of theold log-house, where the mother used to sit in the sunshine. For thecreek seemed a long way off to Hamish now. When Allister came down thehill to speak to his brother, it came into Shenac's mind that his facewas graver, and his greeting not so cheery, as it had been that May-day. As for Dan, he did not hail him as he had done then, but only looked amoment with wistful eyes, and then went away. 

"Truly, the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes tobehold the sun, " said Hamish softly, as he leaned back against the wall. "I thought, the last time I was out, that nothing could be lovelierthan the sky and the fields were then; but they are lovelier to-day. Ithelps one to realise `the living green' that the hymn speaks about, Shenac:--

 "`There everlasting spring abides, And never-withering flowers, '"

he murmured. 

But Shenac had no answer ready. Day by day she was coming to theknowledge of what must be, but she could not speak about it yet. Nay, she had never really put it to herself in words that her brother wasgoing to die. She had all these days been putting the fear from her, asthough by that means she might also put away the cause. Now in thesunshine it looked her in the face, and would not be put aside. But, except that she sat very still and was very pale, she gave no token ofher thoughts to Hamish; and if he noticed her, he said nothing. 

"Shenac, " said he in a little while, "when Allister takes away the poorold house to make the garden larger, he should make a summer-seat here, just where the end of the house comes, to mind you all of my mother andme. 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 yearsto come, when Allister's children will be growing up about him. He willnot forget me; but he will be quite happy without me, as the time goeson; 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 liketo have had the thought of poor lame Hamish joined with the change; butit 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 thingafterwards--for the tears and bitter cries which Shenac could only justkeep back, for the sickness of the heart that would not be driven away. Now she could only promise quietly that afterwards Allister should betold; and then gather closer about him the plaid, which her brother'shand 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 intothe old house for a moment, for the sake of old times. 

"For, with all your cares, and all my painful days and nights, we werevery happy here, Shenac, " said Hamish, as the wide, low door swung backand they stepped down into the room. Oh, how unspeakably dreary itlooked to Shenac--dreary, though so familiar! There was a bedstead inthe room yet, and some old chairs; and the heavy bunk, which was hardlyfit for the new house. There was the mother's wheel, too; and on thewalls hung bunches of dried herbs and bags of seeds, and an old familiargarment or two. There was dust on the floor, and ashes and blackenedbrands were lying in the wide fireplace, and the sunshine streaming inon all through the open door. Shenac shivered as she entered, butHamish looked round with a smile, and with eyes that were takingfarewell 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 himagain, 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, allthe days that could never, never come again. Kneeling down beside him, she laid her head upon his breast, and just this once--the first timeand the last in his presence--gave way to her grief. 

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

"I am grieved for you, my Shenac, " said he. "We two have been nearer toeach other than the rest. You have not loved me less because I amlittle and lame, but rather more for the trouble I have been to you; andI 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 seesuch a beautiful life before you. You are strong. There is much foryou to do of the very highest work--God's work; and then at the end weshall meet all the happier because of the heart-break now. "

But beyond the shadow that was drawing nearer, Shenac's eyes sawnothing, and she thought indeed that her heart was breaking--dying withthe sharpness of the pain. 

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

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

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

"It is coming nearer, " she said to herself, over and over again--"it iscoming nearer. " But she strove to quiet herself, that her face might becalm 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 alonea little while with her grief. An hour passed, and then another, and athird was drawing to a close, and she did not return. 

"She must have fallen asleep. She is weary with the long day, " saidHamish. "And you are weary too, Allister and Shenac. Go to bed. Ishall not need anything till my Shenac comes. "

Shenac Dhu went out and opened the door of her sister's room. LittleFlora was sleeping sweetly, but there was no Shenac. Very softly shewent here and there, looking and listening in vain. The late moon, justrising, cast long shadows on the dewy grass as she opened the door andlooked out. The pleasant sounds of a summer night fell on her ear, butno human voice mingled with the music. All at once there came into hermind the remembrance of the brother and sister as they sat in theafternoon at the old house-end, and, hardly knowing why, she wentthrough the yard and down the garden-path. All was still without, butfrom within the house there surely came a sound. 

Yes; it was the sound of weeping--not loud and bitter, but as when a"weaned child" has quieted itself, and sobs and sighs through itsslumbers. 

"Alone with God and her sorrow!"

Shenac Dhu dared not enter; nor shall we. When a stricken soul lies inthe dust before God, no eye should gaze, no lip tell the story. Whowould dare to speak of the mystery of suffering and blessing throughwhich a soul passes when God first smites, then heals? What writtenwords could reveal his secret of peace spoken to such a one?

That night all the grief of Shenac's sore heart was spread out beforethe Lord. All the rebellion of the will that clung still to an earthlyidol rose up against him; and in his loving-kindness and in themultitude of his tender mercies he had compassion upon her. That nightshe "did eat angels' food, " on the strength of which she went for many aday. 

Shenac Dhu still listened and waited, meaning to steal away unseen; butwhen the door opened, and the moonlight fell on her sister'stear-stained face, so pale and calm, now that the struggle was over, sheforgot all else, and clung to her, weeping. Shenac did not weep; but, weary and spent with the long struggle, she trembled like a leaf, and, guiding each other through the dim light, they went home. 

Shenac Dhu was herself again when she crossed the threshold, and whenher cousin would have turned towards the door of her brother's room, shegently but firmly drew her past it. 

"No; it is Allister's turn and mine to-night, " she said; and Shenac hadno strength to resist, but suffered herself to be laid down by littleFlora's side without a word. 

She rose next morning refreshed; and after this all was changed. Shegave Hamish up after that night; or, rather, she had given up her ownwill, and waited that God's will might be done in him and in her. Itwas not that she suffered, and had strength to hide her suffering fromher brother's eye. She did not suffer as she had done before. She didnot love her brother less, but she no longer grudged him to his Lord andhers. It was not that for him the change would be most blessed, northat for her the waiting would not be long. It was because God willedthat her brother should go hence; and therefore she willed it too. 

And what blessed days those were that followed! Surely never travellerwent down the dark valley cheered by warmer love or tenderer care. There was no cloud, no shadow of a cloud, between the brother and sisterafter that night. Though Shenac never said it, Hamish knew that afterthat night she gave him up and was at peace. It was a peaceful time toall the household, and to the friends who came now and then to see them;but there was more than peace in the hallowed hours to the brother andsister. It was a foretaste of "the rest that remaineth. " To one, thatrest was near. Between it and the other lay life--it might be long--alife of care and labour and trial; but to her the rest "remaineth" allthe same. 

He did not suffer much--just enough to make her loving care constant andvery sweet to him--just enough to make her not grudge too much, for hissake, the passing of the days. Oh, how peacefully they glided on! Thevalley was steep, but it never was dark. Not a shadow, to the verylast, came to dim the brightness of those days; and in remembrance thebrightness lingers still. 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. 

But I must go back again to the June days when Shenac's peace was new. The light came in through the western window, not from the sun, but fromthe glory he had left behind; and with his face upturned towards thegolden clouds, Hamish sat gazing, as if he saw heaven beyond. 

"Ready and waiting!" thought Shenac--"ready and waiting!"

For a moment she thought she must have spoken the words aloud, as herbrother turned and said, --

"I have just one thing left to wish for, Shenac. If I could only seeMr Stewart once again. "

"He said he would come, dear, in August or September, " said Shenac, after a moment's pause. 

"I shall not see him, then, " said Hamish softly. 

"He might come sooner, perhaps, if he knew, " said Shenac. "Allistermight write to him. "

"I so long to see him!" continued Hamish. "I do love him so, Shenacdear--next to you, I think. Indeed, I know not which I love best. Oh, I could never tell you all the cause I have to love him. "

"He would be sure to come, " said his sister. 

"I want to see him because I love him, and because he loves me, andbecause--" He paused. 

"Have you anything to say to him that I could tell him afterwards? Buthe will be sure to come. "

"You could write and ask him, Shenac. "

"Yes; oh yes. Only Allister could do it better, " said Shenac; "but Icould let him know that you are longing to see him again. "

But it was Hamish himself who wrote--two broken lines, very unlike theletters he used to take so much pains to make perfect. But theirregular, almost illegible, characters were eloquent to his friend; andin a few days there came an answer, saying that in a day or two businesswould bring him within fifty miles of their home, and it would go hardwith him if he could not get a day for his friend. And almost as soonas his letter he himself came. He had travelled all night to accomplishit, and must travel all night again; but in the meantime there was along summer day before them. 

A long, happy day it was, and long to be remembered. They had it mostlyto themselves. All the morning Mr Stewart sat beside the low couch ofHamish, and spoke or was silent as he had strength to listen or reply. On the other side sat Shenac, never speaking, never moving, except whenher brother needed her care. 

Once, when Hamish slumbered, Mr Stewart, touching her bowed head withhis hand, whispered, --

"Is it well?" And Shenac answered, "It is well. I would not have itotherwise. "

"And afterwards?" said her friend. 

"I cannot look beyond, " she murmured. 

He stooped to whisper, --

"I will not fear, though the earth be removed, though the mountains becast into the midst of the sea. "

"I am not afraid, " said Shenac. "I do not think when the time comes Ishall be afraid. "

After that Mr Stewart carried Hamish out to the end of the house, andthere they were alone. When they came in again, one and another of hisfriends came to see Mr Stewart, and Hamish rested. As it grew dark, they all gathered in to worship, and then it was time for Mr Stewart togo. When all was ready, and he came to say farewell, Hamish slumbered. Shenac stooped down and spoke his name. Mr Stewart bent over him andkissed him on the brow and lips. As he raised himself, the closed eyesopened, and the smiling lips murmured, as Shenac stooped again to catchthe words, --

"He will come again, to care for you always. I could hardly have borneto leave my Shenac, but for that. "

Shenac lifted her startled eyes to Mr Stewart's face. 

"Is he wandering?" she asked. 

"No. Will you let me care for you always, Shenac, good and dear child?"

Shenac did not catch the true meaning of his words, but she saw that hislip quivered, and the hand he held out trembled; so she placed hers init for a farewell. Then he kissed her as he had kissed her brother, andthen he went away. 

There was no break in the long summer days after this. Sabbaths andweekdays were all the same in the quiet room. Once or twice Hamish wascarried in Allister's strong arms to the door, or to the seat at the endof the house, and through almost all July he sat for an hour or two eachday in the great chair by the western window. But after August came in, the only change he had was between his bed and the low couch beside it. He did not suffer much pain, but languor and restlessness overpoweredhim often; and then the strong, kind arms of his elder brother neverwere wearied, even when the harvest-days were longest, but bore him frombed to couch, and from couch to bed again, till he could rest at last. Sometimes, when he could rest nowhere else, he would slumber a littlewhile with his head on his sister's shoulder, and her arms clasped abouthim. 

When a friend came in to sit with him for a while, or when he was easyor slumbered through the day, Shenac made herself busy with householdmatters; for, what with the milk and the wool and the harvest-people, Shenac Dhu had more than she could well do, even with the help of herhandmaid Maggie, and her sister strove to lighten the labour. But thecare of her brother was the work that fell to her now, and at night shenever left him. She slept by snatches in the great chair when he slept, and whiled away the wakeful hours when his restless turns came on. 

She was not doing too much for her strength; she was quite fit for itall. The neighbours were more than kind, and many of them would gladlyhave shared the watching at night with her; but Hamish was not used tohave any one else about him, and it could hardly be called watching, forshe slept all she needed. And, besides, it was harvest-time, and allwere busy in the fields, and those who worked all day could not watch atnight. She was quite well--a little thin and pale--"bleached, " her auntsaid, by being in the house and not out in the harvest-field; but shewas always alert and cheerful. 

The coming sorrow was more hers than any of the others. They allthought with dismay of the time when Shenac should be alone, with halfher heart in the grave of Hamish. But she did not look beyond the endto that time, and sought no sympathy because of this. 

It is a happy, thing that they who bear the burdens of others by thismeans lighten their own; and Shenac, careful for her young brothers andlittle Flora, anxious that the few hushed moments in their brother'sroom--his prayers, his loving words, his gentle patience, his immortalhope--should henceforth be blended with all their inward life, never tobe forgotten, never to be set aside, thought more of them than ofherself through all those days and nights of waiting. 

When a sudden shower or a rainy day gave the harvesters a littleleisure, she used to make herself busy in the house that Dan might feelhimself of use to Hamish, and might hear, with no one else to listen, asweet, persuasive word or two from his dying brother's lips. 

For Shenac's heart yearned over her brother Dan. He did so need somehigh aim, some powerful motive of action, some strengthening, guidingprinciple of life. All need this; but Dan more than others, shethought. If he did not go straight to the mark, he would go very farastray. He would soon be his own master, free to guide himself, and hewould either do very well or very ill in life; and there had been times, even since the coming home of Allister, when Shenac feared that "veryill" it was to be. 

And yet at one time he had seemed not very far from the kingdom. Duringall the long season of religious interest, no one had seemed moreinterested, in one way, than he. Without professing to be personallyearnest in the matter, he had attended all the meetings, and watched--with curiosity, perhaps, but with awe and interest too--the coming outfrom the world of many of his companions, their changed life, theirhigher purpose. But all this had passed away without any real change tohimself, and, as a reaction from that time, Dan had grown a little morethan careless--very willing to be called careless, and more, by some whogrieved, and by others who laughed. 

So Shenac watched and prayed, and forgot herself in longings that, amidthe influences of a time so solemn and so sweet, Dan might find thatwhich should make him wise and strong, and place him far beyond all herdoubts and fears for ever. 

It was a day in the beginning of harvest--a rainy day, coming after solong a time of drought and dust and heat that all rejoiced in it, eventhough it fell on golden sheaves and on long swaths of new-cut grain. It was not a misty, drizzling rain; it came down with a will in suddenshowers, leaving little pools in the chip-yard and garden-paths. Everynow and then the clouds broke away, as if they were making preparationfor the speedy return of the sunshine; but the sun did not show his facetill he had only time to tinge the clouds with golden glory before hesank behind the forest. 

"Carry me to the window, Dan, " said Hamish. "Thank you: that is nice. You carry me as strongly and firmly as Allister himself. You are asstrong, and nearly as tall, I think, " continued he, when he had beenplaced in the great chair and had rested a little. At any other timeDan would have straightened himself up to declare how he was an eighthof an inch taller than Allister, or he would have attempted someextraordinary feat--such as lifting the stove or the chest of drawers--to prove his right to be called a strong man. But, looking down on hisbrother's fragile form and beautiful colourless face, other thoughtsmoved him. Love and compassion, for which no words could be found, filled his heart and looked out from his wistful eyes. It came to himas it had never come before--what a sorrowful, suffering life hisbrother's had been; and now he was dying! Hamish seemed not to needwords in order that he might understand his thoughts. 

"I used to fret about it, Dan; but that is all past. It does notmatter, as I am lying now. I would not change my weakness for yourstrength to-day, dear lad. "

A last bright ray of sunlight lighted up the fair, smiling face, andflecked with golden gleams the curls that lay about it. There came intoDan's mind thoughts of the time when Hamish was a little lad, strong andmerry as any of them all; and his heart was moved with vague wonder andregret at the mystery that had changed his happy life to one ofsuffering and comparative helplessness. And yet, what did it matter, now that the end had come? Perhaps all that trouble and pain had helpedto make the brightness of to-day, for there was no shadow in the dyingeyes, no regret for the past, no fear for the future. He let his owneyes wander from his brother's face away to the clouds and the sinkingsun and the illuminated forest, with a vague notion that, if hisfeelings were not suppressed, he should do dishonour to his manlinesssoon. Hamish touched his hand, as he said, --

"It looks dark to you, Dan, with the shadow of death drawing nearer andnearer; but it is only a shadow, lad, only a shadow, and I am notafraid. "

Dan felt that he must break down if he met that smile a moment longer, and, with a sudden wrench, he turned himself away; but he could not havespoken a word, if his reputation for strength had depended on it. Hamish spoke first. 

"Sit down, lad, if you are not needed, and read a while to me, tillShenac comes back again. "

"All right, " said Dan. He could endure it with something to do, hethought. "What book, Hamish?"

"There is only one book now, Dan, lad, " said Hamish as he lifted thelittle, worn Bible from the window-seat. 

Dan could do several things better than he could read, but he took thebook from his brother's hand. Even reading would be better thansilence--more easily borne. 

"Anywhere, I suppose?" said he. 

The book opened naturally at a certain place, where it had often beenopened before, and he read:--

"Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through ourLord Jesus Christ. "

The sigh of satisfaction with which Hamish laid himself back, as thewords came slowly, said more to Dan than a sermon could have done. Heread on, thinking, as verse by verse passed his lips, "That is forHamish, " till he came to this:--

"For if when we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death ofhis Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by his life. "

"Was this for Hamish only?" Dan's voice was not quite smooth throughthis verse; it quite broke down when he tried the next; and then hisface was hidden, and the sobs that had been gathering all this timeburst forth. 

"Why, Dan, lad! what is it, Dan?" said Hamish; and the thin, transparentfingers struggled for a moment to withdraw the great, brown, screeninghands from his eyes. Then his arm was laid across his brother's neck. "They are all for you, Dan, as well as for me, " he murmured. "O Dan, donot sob like that. Look up, dear brother, I have something to say toyou. "

If I were to report the broken words that followed, they might not seemto have much meaning or weight; but, falling from those dear dying lips, they came with power to the heart of Dan. And this was but thebeginning. The veil being once lifted from Dan's heart, he did notshrink again from his brother's gentle and faithful ministrations. There were few days after that in which the brothers were not left alonetogether for a little while. Though the days were not many, in Dan'slife they counted more than all the years that had gone before. 

The harvest was drawing to a close before the last day came. The dawnwas breaking after a long and weary night More than once, during theslowly-passing hours, Shenac had turned to the door to call herbrothers; but thoughts of the long laborious day restrained her, and nowa little respite had come. Hamish slumbered peacefully. It was notvery long, however, before his eyes opened on his sister's face with asmile. 

"It is drawing nearer, my Shenac, " he murmured. 

Her answering smile was tearful, but very bright. 

"Yes, it is drawing nearer. "

"And you do not grudge me to my rest, dear?"

"No; even at my worst time I did not do that. For myself, the waylooked weary; but at the very worst time I was glad for you. "

The brightness of her tearful smile never changed till his weary eyesclosed again. The day passed slowly. They thought him dying in theafternoon, and they all gathered in his room; but he revived, and whennight came he was left alone with Shenac. There were others up in thehouse all night, and now and then a face looked in at the open door; butthey slept, or seemed to sleep--Shenac in the great chair, with her headlaid on her brother's pillow and her bright hair mingling with his. Onher cheek, pale with watching and with awe of the presence thatovershadowed them, one thin, white hand was laid. The compressed lipsand dimmed eyes of Hamish never failed to smile as in answer to histouch she murmured some tender word--not her own, but _His_ whose wordsalone can avail when it comes to a time like this. 

As the day dawned they gathered again--first Dan, then Allister andShenac Dhu, then Flora and the little lads; for the change which cannotbe mistaken had come to the dying face, and they waited in silence forthe King's messenger. He slumbered peacefully with a smile upon hislips, but his eyes opened at last and fastened on his sister's face. She had never moved through the coming in of them all; she did not movenow, but spoke his name. 

"Hamish, bhodach!"

Did he see her?

"How bright it is in the west! It will be a fair day for the harvestto-morrow. "

It must have been a glimpse of the "glory to be revealed" breakingthrough the dimness of death; for he did not see the dear face so closeto his, and if he heard her voice, he was past all answering now. Justonce again his lips moved, murmuring a name--the dearest ofall--"Jesus;" and then he "saw him as he is. "

CHAPTER NINETEEN. 

And having closed the once beaming eyes and straightened the worn limbsfor the grave, Shenac's work at home was done. Through the days ofwaiting that followed, she sat in the great chair with folded hands. Many came and went, and lingered night and day in the house of death, asis the custom of this part of the country, now happily passing away; andthrough all the coming and going Shenac sat still. Sometimes she rousedherself to answer the friends who came with well-meant sympathy; butoftener she sat silent, scarcely seeming to hear their words. She was"_resting_, " she said to Dan, who watched her through those days withwistful and anxious eyes. 

Yes, she was resting from the days and nights of watching, and from thelabours and cares and anxieties of the years that had gone before. Allher weariness seemed to fall upon her at once. Even when death entersthe door, the cares and duties of such a household cannot be altogetherlaid aside. There was much to do with so many comers and goers; butthere were helpful hands enough, and she took no part in the necessarywork, but rested. 

She took little heed of the preparations going on about her--differentin detail, but in all the sad essentials the same, in hut and hall, athome and abroad--the preparations for burying our dead out of our sight. During the first day, Allister and his wife said, thankfully, to eachother, "How calm she is!" The next day they said it a little anxiously. Then they watched for the reaction, feeling sure it must come, andlonging that it should be over. 

"It will be now, " said Shenac Dhu as they brought in the coffin; and shewaited at her sister's door to hear her cry out, that she might weepwith her. But it was not then; nor afterwards, when the long, longprocession moved away from the house so slowly and solemnly; nor whenthey stood around the open grave in the kirkyard. When the first clodfell on the coffin--oh, heart-breaking sound!--Dan made one blind steptowards Shenac, and would have fallen but for Angus Dhu. Little Floracried out wildly, and her sister held her fast. She did not shriek, norswoon, nor break into weeping, as did Shenac Dhu; but "her face wouldnever be whiter, " said they who saw it, and many a kindly and anxiouseye followed her as the long line of mourners slowly turned on theirhomeward way again. 

After the first day or two, Shenac tried faithfully to fall back intoher old household ways--or, rather, she tried to settle into somehelpful place in her brother's household. The wheel was put to useagain, and, indeed, there was need, for all things had lagged a littleduring the summer; and Shenac did her day's work, and more, as she usedto do. She strove to be interested in the discussions of ways and meanswhich Allister's wife was so fond of holding, but she did not alwaysstrive successfully. It was a weariness to her; everything was aweariness at times. It was very wrong, she said, and very strange, forshe really did wish to be useful and happy in her brother's household. She thought little of going away now; she had not the heart for it. Thethought of beginning some new, untried work made her weary, and thethought of going away among strangers made her afraid. 

When it was suggested that she and little Flora should pay along-promised visit to their uncle, at whose house Hamish had passed somany weeks, and that they should go soon, that they might have theadvantage of the fine autumn weather, she shrank from the proposal indismay. 

"Not yet, Allister, " she pleaded; "I shall like it by-and-by, but notyet. "

So nothing of the kind was urged again. They made a mistake, however. A change of some kind was greatly needed by her at this time. Herbrother's long illness and death had been a greater strain on her healthand spirits than any one dreamed. She was not ill, but she was in thatstate when if she had been left to herself, or had had nothing to do, she might have become ill, or have grown to fancy herself so, which is aworse matter often, and worse to cure. As it was, with her goodconstitution and naturally cheerful spirit, she would have recoveredherself in time, even if something had not happened to rouse andinterest her. 

But something did happen. Shenac went one fair October afternoon overthe fields to the beech woods to gather nuts with Flora and the younglads, and before they returned a visitor had arrived. They fell in withDan on their way home, and as they came in sight of the house, chattingtogether eagerly, there was something like the old light in Shenac's eyeand the old colour in her cheek. If she had known whose eyes werewatching her from the parlour window, she would hardly have lingered inthe garden while the children spread their nuts on the old house-floorto dry. She did not know till she went into the house--into the room. She did not know till he was holding her hands in his, that Mr Stewarthad come. 

"Shenac, good, dear child, is it well with you?"

She had heard the words before. All the scene came back--theremembrance of the summer days, her dying brother and his friend--allthat had happened since then. She strove to answer him--to say it waswell, that she was glad to see him, and why had he not come before? Butshe could not for her tears. She struggled hard; but, long restrained, they came in a flood now. When she felt that to struggle was vain, shewould have fled; but she was held fast, and the tears were suffered tohave way for a while. When she could find voice, she said, --

"I am not grieving too much; you must not think that. Ask Allister. Idid not mean to cry, but when I saw you it all came back. "

Again her face was hidden, for her tears would not be stayed; but onlyone hand was given to the work. Mr Stewart held the other firmly, while he spoke just such words as she needed to hear of her brother andherself--of all they had been to each other, of all that his memorywould be to her in the life that might lie before her. Then he spoke ofthe endless life which was before them, which they should pass togetherwhen this life--short at the very longest--should be over. Shelistened, and became quiet; and by-and-by, in answer to his questions, she found herself telling him of her brother's last days and words, andthen, with a little burst of joyful tears, of Dan, and all that shehoped those days had brought to him. 

Never since the old times, when she used "to empty her heart out" toHamish, had she found such comfort in being listened to. When she cameto the tea-table, after brushing away her tears, she seemed just asusual, Shenac Dhu thought; and yet not just the same, she found, whenshe looked again. She gave a little nod at her husband, who smiled backat her, and then she said softly to Mr Stewart, --

"You have done her good already. "

Of course Mr Stewart, being a minister, whose office it is to do goodto people, was very glad to have done good to Shenac. Perhaps hethought it best to let _well_ alone, for he did not speak to her againduring tea-time, nor while she was gathering up the tea-things--"just asshe used to do in the old house long ago, " he said to himself. Shewashed them, too, there before them all; for it was Shenac Dhu's newchina--Christie More's beautiful wedding present--that had been spreadin honour of the occasion, and it was not to be thought of that theyshould be carried into the kitchen to be washed like common dishes. Shewas quiet, as usual, all the evening and at the time of worship, whenAngus Dhu and his wife and Evan and some other neighbours, having heardof the minister's arrival, came in. She was just as usual, they allsaid, only she did not sing. If she had raised her voice in herbrother's favourite psalm, --

 "I to the hills will lift mine eyes, "

she must have cried again; and she was afraid of the tears which itseemed impossible to stop when once they found a way. 

Mr Stewart fully intended for that night to "let well alone. " Shenachad welcomed him warmly as the dearest friend of her dead brother, andhe would be content for the present with that. He had something to sayto her, and a question or two to ask; but he must wait a while, hethought. She must not be disturbed yet. 

But when the neighbours were gone, and he found himself alone with herfor a moment, he felt sorely tempted to change his mind. As he watchedher sitting there with folded hands, so quiet and grave and sweet, sounconscious of his presence, as it seemed to him, a fear came over him--a fear as to the answer his question might receive. It was not at all apleasant state of mind. He endured it only while he walked up and downthe room two or three times; then pausing beside her, he said softly, --

"Is this my Shenac?"

She looked up with only wonder in her eyes, he saw, with a little shockof pain; but he went on, --

"Hamish gave his sister to me, to keep and cherish always. Did he nevertell you?"

"I do not understand you, Mr Stewart, " said Shenac; but the suddendrooping of the eye and the rush of colour over her face seemed to saysomething else. 

"To be my wife, " he said, sitting down beside her and drawing her gentlytowards him. She did not resist, but she said hastily, --

"Oh, no; I am not fit for that. "

"But if I am content, and can make you content?"

"But that is not enough. I am not fit. No; it is _not_ humility. Iknow myself, and I am not fit. "

It is just possible that Mr Stewart wished that he had for that night"let well alone. "

"But I must have it out with her, now that I have begun, " he said tohimself as he rose and went to the door, at which a footstep had paused. Whoever it was, no one came in; and, shutting the door, he came and satdown again. 

In the meantime, Shenac had been calling up a vision of the newminister's wife, the one who had succeeded old Mr Farquharson, and, inview of the prettily-dressed, gentle-mannered, accomplished little ladythat presented herself to her mind, she had repeated to herself, moreemphatically, --

"No, I am _not_ fit. "

So when Mr Stewart came back she was sitting with closely-folded hands, looking straight before her, very grave indeed. They were both silentfor a moment; then Mr Stewart said, --

"Now, Shenac, tell me why. "

Shenac started. "You must know quite well. "

"But indeed I do not. Tell me, Shenac. "

It was not easy to do so. In the unspeakable embarrassment that cameover her, she actually thought of flight. 

"I am not educated, " she murmured. "I have never been anywhere but athome. I can only do common work. I am not fit. "

"Hamish thought you fit, " said Mr Stewart softly. 

"Ah, yes; Hamish, bhodach!"

Her voice fell with such a loving cadence. All the pain andembarrassment passed out of her face, giving place to a soft and tenderlight, as she turned towards him. 

"I was perfect in his eyes; but--you know better, Mr Stewart. "

"The eyes of the dying are very clear to see things as they are, " saidMr Stewart. "And as we sat at the end of the house that day, I thinkHamish was more glad for me than for you. He was willing to give you tome, even for your sake; but he knew what a treasure he was giving to hisfriend, if I could win you for my own. "

Her tears were falling softly. She did not try to speak. 

"Will you tell me in what respect you think you are not fit?"

She did not know how to answer. She was deficient in so many ways--inevery way, indeed, it seemed to her. She did not know where to begin;but she must speak, and quickly too, that she might get away before shequite broke down. Putting great force upon herself, she turned to him, and said, --

"I can do so few things; I know so little. I could keep your house, and--and care for you in that way; but I have seen so little. I am onlyan ignorant country girl--"

"Yes; I thought that myself once, " said Mr Stewart. 

"You must have thought it many times, " said Shenac with a pang. It wasnot pleasant to hear it from his lips, let it be ever so true. But ittook the quiver from her voice, and gave her courage to go on, "And allyou care for is so different from anything I have ever seen or known, Ishould be quite left out of your real life. You do not need me forthat, I know; but I don't think I could bear it--to be so near you andso little to you. "

She rose to go. She was trembling very much, and could hardly utter thewords. 

"You are very kind, and I thank you; but--you know I am not fit. Anignorant country girl--you have said so yourself. "

"Shall I tell you when I thought so, Shenac? Do you mind the night thatI brought little Flora home, crying with the cold? It was the firsttime I saw your face. Do you mind how you comforted Flora, and put thelittle lads to shame for having left her? And then you thanked me, andasked me to sit down. And do you mind how you made pancakes for supper, and never let one of them burn, though you were listening all the timeto Hamish and me? I remember everything that happened that night, Shenac--how you put away the things, and made a new band for themother's wheel, and took up the lost loops in little Flora's stocking. Then you helped the little lads with their tables, and kept Dan inorder, listening all the time to your brother and me; and, best of all, you bade me be sure and come again. Have you forgotten, Shenac?"

"It was for the sake of Hamish, " said Shenac, dropping her head; but sheraised it again quickly. "That does not make any difference. "

"Listen. That night, as I went over the fields to Angus Dhu's, I saidto myself that if ever I grew strong and well again, if ever I shouldlive to have a kirk and a manse of my own--was I too bold, Shenac?--Isaid to myself you should help me to do my work in them as I ought. "

Shenac shook her head. 

"It was not a wise thought. You little know how unfit I was then, howunfit I am now. "

"Say that you do not care for me, Shenac, " said Mr Stewart gravely. 

"No, I cannot say that; it would not be true. I mean, that has nothingto do with my being fit. "

Mr Stewart thought it had a great deal to do with it, but he did notsay so. 

"You said you would be left out of my real life. What do you mean, Shenac? Do you know what my life's work is to be? It is, with God'shelp, to be of use to souls. Don't you care for that, Shenac? Do youthink a year or two of life in the world--common life--could be to youwhat these months by your brother's death-bed have been, as apreparation for real life-work--yours and mine? Do you think that anyschool could do for you what all these years of forgetting yourself andcaring for others have done--all your loving patience with yourafflicted mother, all your care of your sister and the little lads, allyour forbearance with Dan, all your late joy in him? If you cared forme, Shenac, you would not say you are not fit. "

It was very pleasant to listen to all this. There was some truth in it, too, Shenac could not but acknowledge. He was very much in earnest, atany rate, and sincere in every word, except perhaps the last He wantedto hear her say again that she eared for him; but she did not fall intothe trap, whether she saw it or not. 

"I know I care for your work, " she said, "and you are right--in one way. I think all our cares and troubles have done me good, have made me seethings differently. But I could not help you much, I'm afraid. "

"Don't say that, Shenac; you could give me what I need most--sympathy;you could help my weakness with your strength and courage of spirit. Think what you were to Hamish. You would be tenfold more to me. Oh, Ineed you so much, Shenac!"

"Hamish was different. You would have a right to expect more thanHamish. "

But she grew brave again, and, looking into his face, said, --

"I do sympathise in your work, Mr Stewart, and I would like it to bemine in a humble way; but there are so many things that I cannot speakabout. Think of your own sisters. How different I must be from them!Allister and Shenac saw your sister Jessie when they were in M---, andthey said she was so accomplished--such a perfect little lady--and yetso good and sweet and gentle. No, Mr Stewart, I could never bear tohave people say your wife was not worthy of you, even though I mightknow it to be true. "

"I was thinking how our bonnie little Jessie might sit at your feet tolearn everything--almost everything--that it is worth a woman's while toknow. "

"You are laughing at me now, " said she, troubled. 

"No, I am not; and, Shenac, you must not go. I have a question to ask. I should have begun with it. Will you answer me simply and truly, asHamish would have wished his sister to answer his friend?"

"I will try, " said she, looking up with a peculiar expression thatalways came at the name of Hamish. He bent down and whispered it. 

"I have always thought you wise and good, more than any one, and--"

There was another pause. 

"It is a pleasant thing to hear that you have always thought me wise andgood; but you have not answered my question, Shenac. "

"Yes, I do care for you, Mr Stewart. It would make me happy to shareyour work; but I am not fit for it--at least, not yet. "

In his joy and simplicity he thought all the rest would be easy; and, totell the truth, so did Allister and his wife, who ought to have knownour Shenac better. When Shenac Dhu kissed her, and whispered somethingabout Christmas, and how they could ever bear to lose her so soon, Shenac spoke. She was going away before Christmas, and they could spareher very well; but she was not going with Mr Stewart for two years atthe very least Allister had told her there was something laid up for heragainst the time she should need it, and it would be far better that sheshould use it to furnish her mind than to furnish her house; and she wasgoing to school. 

"To school!" repeated Mrs Allister in dismay. "Does Mr Stewart know?"

"No; you must tell him, Shenac--you and Allister. I am not fit to behis wife. You will not have people saying--saying things. You must seeit, Shenac. I know so little; and it makes me quite wretched to thinkof going among strangers, I am so shy and awkward. I am not fit to be aminister's wife, " she added with a little laugh that was half a sob. Shenac Dhu laughed too, and clapped her hands. 

"A minister's wife, no less! Our Shenac!" And then she added gravely, "I think you are right, Shenac. I know you are good enough and dearenough to be Mr Stewart's wife, though he were the prince of that name, if there be such a person. But there are little things that folk canonly learn by seeing them in others, and I think you are quite right;but you will not get Mr Stewart to think so. "

"If it is right he will come to think so; and you must be on my side, Shenac--you and Allister, too. "

Shenac Dhu promised, but in her heart she thought that her sister wouldnot be suffered to have her own way in this matter. She was mistaken, however. Shenac was firm without the use of many words. She cared forhim, but she was not fit to be his wife yet. This was the burden of herargument, gone over and over in all possible ways; and the first partwas so sweet to Mr Stewart that he was fain to take patience and lether have her own way in the rest. 

In Shenac's country, happily, it is not considered a strange thing thata young girl should wish to pursue her education even after she istwenty, so she had no discomfort to encounter on the score of being outof her 'teens. She lived first with her cousin, Christie More, who nolonger occupied rooms behind her husband's shop, but a handsome house ata reasonable distance towards the west end of the town. Afterwards shelived in the school-building, because it gave her more time and a betterchance for study. She spent all the money that Allister had put asidefor her; but she was moderately successful in her studies, andconsidered it well spent. 

And when the time for the furnishing of the western manse came, therewas money forthcoming for that too; for Angus Dhu had put aside theinterest of the sum sent to him by Allister for her use from the veryfirst, meaning it always to furnish her house. It is possible that itwas another house he had been thinking of then; but he gave it to hernow in a way that greatly increased its value in her eyes, kissing herand blessing her before them all. 

All these years Shenac's work has been constant and varied; her dutieshave been of the humblest and of the highest, from the cutting andcontriving, the making and mending of little garments, to the guiding ofwandering feet and the comforting of sorrowful souls. In the mansethere have been the usual Saturday anxieties and Monday despondencies, needing cheerful sympathy and sometimes patient forbearance. In theparish there have been times of trouble and times of rejoicing; timeswhen the heavens have seemed brass above, and the earth beneath, iron;and times when the church has been "like a well-watered garden, " havingits trees "filled with the fruits of righteousness. " And in the manseand in the parish Shenac has never, in her husband's estimation, failedto fill well her allotted place. 

The firm health and cheerful temper which helped her through the daysbefore Allister came home, have helped her to bear well the burdenswhich other years have brought to her. The firm will, the earnestpurpose, the patience, the energy, the forgetfulness of self, which madeher a stronghold of hope to her mother and the rest in the old times, have made her a tower of strength in her home and among the people. Andeach passing year has deepened her experience and brightened her hope, has given her clearer views of God's truth and a clearer sense of God'slove; and thus she has grown yearly more fit to be a helper in the greatwork beside which all other work seems trifling--the work in which Godhas seen fit to make his people co-workers with himself--the work ofgathering in souls, to the everlasting glory of his name. 

And so, when her work on earth is over, there shall a glad "Well done!"await her in heaven. 

THE END.