Janets Love and Service | Page 9

to be carried away captive for their sins, and
no' o' honest folk, followin' the leadings o' Providence. If there's ony
application it's to me, I'm thinkin'. It's them that bide at hame that are
bidden weep sore;" and she seemed much inclined to follow the
injunction. She recovered in a minute, however, and added,--
"But I'm no' going to add to your trouble. You dinna need me to tell

you I'll have little left when you're awa'. But, if it's your duty to go with
them, it canna be your duty to bide with me. You winna lose your
reward striving in behalf o' these motherless bairns, and the Lord will
hae me and Sandy in his keeping, I dinna doubt."
There was a long silence after this. Each knew what the other suffered.
There was no need to speak of it, and so they sat without a word; Janet,
with the quiet tears falling now and then over her cheeks; her mother,
grave and firm, giving no outward sign of emotion. Each shrunk, for
the other's sake, from putting their fears for the future into words; but
their thoughts were busy. The mother's heart ached for the great wrench
that must sever Janet from her child and her home, and Janet's heart
grew sick with the dread of long weary days and nights her mother
might have to pass, with perhaps no daughter's hand to close her eyes at
last, till the thoughts of both changed to supplication, fervent though
unuttered; and the burden of the prayer of each was, that the other
might have strength and peace.
The mother spoke first. "When will it be?"
"It canna be long now. The sooner the better when once it's really
settled. There are folk in the parish no weel pleased at the minister, for
thinking to go."
"It's for none to say what's right, and what's wrang, in the matter," said
the mother, gravely. "I hae nae doubt the Lord will go with him; but it
will be a drear day for plenty besides me."
"He's bent on it. Go he will, and I trust it may be for the best," but Janet
sighed drearily.
"And how are the bairns pleased with the prospect?" asked her mother.
"Ah! they're weel pleased, bairn-like, at any thought o' a change. Miss
Graeme has her doubts, I whiles think, but that shouldna count; there
are few things that look joyful to her at the present time. She's ower
like her father with her ups and downs. She hasna her mother's cheerful
spirit."

"Her mother's death was an awfu' loss to Miss Graeme, poor thing,"
said the mother.
"Aye, that it was--her that had never kent a trouble but by readin' o'
them in printed books. It was an awfu' wakening to her. She has never
been the same since, and I doubt it will be long till she has the same
light heart again. She tries to fill her mother's place to them all, and
when she finds she canna do it, she loses heart and patience with
herself. But I hae great hope o' her. She has the `single eye,' and God
will guide her. I hae nae fear for Miss Graeme."
And then they spoke of many things--settling their little matters of
business, and arranging their plans as quietly as though they looked
forward to doing the same thing every month during the future years as
they had done during the past. Nothing was forgotten or omitted; for
Janet well knew that all her time and strength would be needed for the
preparations that must soon commence, and that no time so good as the
present might be found for her own personal arrangements. Her little
savings were to be lodged in safe hands for her mother's use, and if
anything were to happen to her they were to be taken to send Sandy
over the sea. It was all done very quietly and calmly. I will not say that
Janet's voice did not falter sometimes, or that no mist came between the
mother's eyes and the grave face on the other side of the table. But
there was no sign given. A strong sense of duty sustained them. A firm
belief that however painful the future might be, they were doing right
in this matter, gave them power to look calmly at the sacrifice that must
cost them so much.
At length the children's voices were heard, and at the sound, Janet's
heart leaped up with a throb of pain, but in words she gave no utterance
to the pang.
"Weel, Sandy, lad, is this you," said she, as with mingled shyness and
pleasure the boy came forward at his grandmother's bidding. He was a
well-grown and healthy lad, with a