'
'Lea' him oot o' oor prayers, laddie, and I canna bide it.'
'What for that?'
'He's deid.'
'Are ye sure?'
'Ay, ower sure--ower sure, laddie.'
'Weel, I dinna believe 't.'
'What for that?'
''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,
'Sneck the door, laddie.'
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!'
And the words of her brother in grief, the king of Israel, opened
the floodgates of her heart, and she wept.
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