''Deed is 't, mem. An' ill news, I'm sorry to say.'
'Ay is he--by a jyler that winna tyne the grup.'
'He's no deid, John Lammie? Dinna say 't.'
'I maun say 't, Mrs. Faukner. I had it frae Dr. Anderson, yer ain cousin. He hintit at it afore, but his last letter leaves nae room to doobt upo' the subjeck. I'm unco sorry to be the beirer o' sic ill news, Mrs. Faukner, but I had nae chice.'
'Ohone! Ohone! the day o' grace is by at last! My puir Anerew!' exclaimed Mrs. Falconer, and sat dumb thereafter.
Mr. Lammie tried to comfort her with some of the usual comfortless commonplaces. She neither wept nor replied, but sat with stony face staring into her lap, till, seeing that she was as one that heareth not, he rose and left her alone with her grief. A few minutes after he was gone, she rang the bell, and told Betty in her usual voice to send Robert to her.
'Rin efter him, an' tell him to come hame.'
When Robert appeared, wondering what his grandmother could want with him, she said:
'Close the door, Robert. I canna lat ye gang to the schule the day. We maun lea' him oot noo.'
'Him, him--Anerew. Yer father, laddie. I think my hert 'll brak.'
'Lea' him oot o' what, grannie? I dinna unnerstan' ye.'
'Lea' him oot o' oor prayers, laddie, and I canna bide it.'
''Cause I winna believe 't. I'm no bund to believe 't, am I?'
'What's the gude o' that? What for no believe 't? Dr. Anderson's sent hame word o' 't to John Lammie. Och hone! och hone!'
'I tell ye I winna believe 't, grannie, 'cep' God himsel' tells me. As lang 's I dinna believe 'at he's deid, I can keep him i' my prayers. I'm no gaein' to lea' him oot, I tell ye, grannie.'
'Weel, laddie, I canna argue wi' ye. I hae nae hert til 't. I doobt I maun greit! Come awa'.'
She took him by the hand and rose, then let him go again, saying,
Robert bolted the door, and his grandmother again taking his hand, led him to the usual corner. There they knelt down together, and the old woman's prayer was one great and bitter cry for submission to the divine will. She rose a little strengthened, if not comforted, saying,
'Ye maun pray yer lane, laddie. But oh be a guid lad, for ye're a' that I hae left; and gin ye gang wrang tu, ye'll bring doon my gray hairs wi' sorrow to the grave. They're gray eneuch, and they're near eneuch to the grave, but gin ye turn oot weel, I'll maybe haud up my heid a bit yet. But O Anerew! my son! my son! Would God I had died for thee!'