"I houp, sir," said the latter, "it'll be nae sort o' a celestial
Mistress Catanach 'at 'll be waiting for me o' the ither side; nor
yet for my puir daddy, wha cud ill bide bein' wamled aboot upo'
her knee."
Mr Graham laughed outright.
"If there be one to act the nurse," he answered, "I presume there
will be one to take the mother's part too."
"But speakin' o' the grave, sir," pursued Malcolm, "I wiss ye cud
drop a word 'at micht be o' some comfort to my daddy. It's plain to
me, frae words he lats fa' noo an' than, that, instead o' lea'in'
the warl' ahint him whan he dees, he thinks to lie smorin' an'
smocherin' i' the mools, clammy an' weet, but a' there, an' trimlin'
at the thocht o' the suddent awfu' roar an' din o' the brazen
trumpet o' the archangel. I wiss ye wad luik in an' say something
till him some nicht. It's nae guid mentionin' 't to the minister;
he wad only gie a lauch an' gang awa'. An' gien ye cud jist slide
in a word aboot forgiein' his enemies, sir! I made licht o' the
maitter to Mistress Courthope, 'cause she only maks him waur. She
does weel wi' what the minister pits intill her, but she has little
o' her ain to mix't up wi', an' sae has but sma' weicht wi' the
likes o' my gran'father. Only ye winna lat him think ye called on
purpose."
They walked about the churchyard until the sun went down in what Mr
Graham called the grave of his endless resurrection--the clouds
on the one side bearing all the pomp of his funeral, the clouds on
the other all the glory of his uprising; and when now the twilight
trembled filmy on the borders of the dark, the master once more
seated himself beside the new grave, and motioned to Malcolm to
take his place beside him: there they talked and dreamed together
of the life to come, with many wanderings and returns; and little
as the boy knew of the ocean depths of sorrowful experience in the
bosom of his companion whence floated up the breaking bubbles of
rainbow hued thought, his words fell upon his heart--not to be
provender for the birds of flitting fancy and airy speculation,
but the seed--it might be decades ere it ripened--of a coming
harvest of hope.
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