“He hes the look, an' his hands are as cold as ice; feel his feet, wumman.”
“A' canna find them,” said Elspeth, making timid explorations.
“They used tae be on the end o' ma legs,” remarked Jamie, as if uncertain where they might now be placed.
Elspeth started back and looked at him, but his eyes were closed, and he gave no other sign of consciousness.
“A 'll no meddle wi' him again,” said Elspeth, solemnly, “though a' sit here for a week; he's a queer body, Jamie; he gied his ain wy a' his life, an' tak ma word for't, Kirsty, he 'ill hae his ain wy o' deein'.”
When the first ray shot through the window and trembled on the bed, Jamie raised himself and listened. He shaded his eyes with his hand, as if he were watching for some one and could not see clearly for excess of light.
“Menie,” he cried suddenly, with a new voice, “a 've keepit oor tryst.”
When they laid him in the coffin--the Bible in his hands--the smile was still on his face, and he appeared a man some forty years of age.
Mary Robertson's brave fight to bring up her orphaned grandchildren had won her the silent respect of the Glen, and when it was reported that Lily had obtained a place in London, and would leave in three weeks, the fathers gave themselves to the incident on all its sides.
“Nae wumman in the pairish hes dune her duty better than Mary,” said Drumsheugh, with authority. “She's been an example tae every man o's. It's auchteen year laist Martinmas sin' her dochter's man ran aff and his puir wife came hame tae dee, leavin' her mother wi' the chairge o' sax young bairns. Ye canna dae't withoot help, Mary,' says I tae her: 'ye 'ill need a bit allooance frae the pairish, an' a 'll get it for ye next Boord. A shilling a week ilka bairn 'ill gang a lang wy in yir hands.'
“'Thank ye, Drumsheugh.' She wes standing at her gate, and drew herself up straicht. 'An' a' the neeburs hev been freendly; but? there's never been ane o' ma bluid on the pairish, an' there never wull be sae lang as the Almichty leaves me ma reason and twa airms.
“'Mary had a puir life o't, an' she deed o' the disgrace her man pit on her. “A'm gaein' awa,” she said tae me, “an' a've juist ae thing tae ask, mither; dinna lat the bairns gae on the pairish; bring them up tae wark and tae respeck themsels.” A' gied her ma word, an' a 'll keep it.' She lookit graund, fouks,” wound up Drumsheugh.