But he has not such a blamed low opinion of himself that he can't imagine any girl, much less a girl like that, looking at him, and even if he did come to see it he would not think of asking her to share the life he's going to out there; and, by Jove! it would be hard enough for her.I guess I won't take the responsibility of interfering in this business."But Brown had no need to interfere.Mrs.Fairbanks, of all people, did what was necessary.On the morning of Shock's departure it was she who declared that someone should take pity on "that dear old lady," and should stand by her in her hour of "desertion.""So I think I shall drive over this afternoon; and, Helen, perhaps you had better come with me.You seem to have great influence with her."But Helen was of quite another mind.She shrank from intruding upon what she knew would be a sacred hour to mother and son.But when Mrs.Fairbanks expressed her determination to go Helen finally agreed to accompany her.
"Oh, let's all go, mother," said Betty.
"I do not think they will want you, Betty, but you may go along,"and so the three ladies proceeded in the afternoon to the Macgregor home.
But at the parting of Shock and his mother there were no tears or lamentations, or at least none that any could witness.Through the long night before, they each knew the other to be keeping the watch of love and agony; yet, each alone, they drank the cup of sacrifice.
It was only when the morning was nearing that Shock could bear it no longer, and hastily dressing he came into his mother's room and kneeling by her bedside put his arms about her.
"Mother, mother, why have you not been sleeping?" he whispered.
His mother turned to him and took his head to her bosom in a close embrace, but no words came from her.
"But, mother, don't be grieving like this," sobbed Shock, "or how can I leave you at all.""Laddie, laddie, why did you come in to me? I had minded to give you up without tears, and this iss my hour of weakness.There now, let your head lie there.Whist! lad, och-hone.It iss twenty-four years since first you lay there, lad, and though grief hass come to me many's the day, yet never through you, never once through you, and you will be remembering that, lad.It will comfort you after--after--after I'm gone."
"Gone, mother!" cried Shock in surprise.
"Yess, for this iss the word given to me this night, that you will see my face no more.""Oh, mother! mother! don't say that word, for I cannot bear it," and poor Shock buried his face in the pillow, while his great frame shook with sobs.
"Whist now, laddie! There now.It iss the Lord."Her voice grew steady and grave."It iss the Lord, and He gave you to me for these few happy years, and, Shock, man, you will be heeding me."Shock turned his face toward her again and laid his face close to her cheek.
"Remember, I gave you to Himself in convenant that day, and that covenant you will keep now and--afterwards, and I must be keeping it too.""Yes, mother," said Shock brokenly, while he held her tight."But it is only for two years, and then I will be coming home, or you to me, and before that, perhaps.""Yes, yes, laddie, it may be--it may be," said his mother soothingly, "but whether or no, we will not be taking back with the one hand what we give with the other.I had minded to give you without tears, but--but oh, lad, you are all--all--all--I have.
There is no one left to me."
There was a long silence between them.Under cover of darkness they let their tears freely mingle.In all his life Shock had never seen his mother sob, and now he was heart--stricken with grief and terror.
"Whist now, mother, you must not cry like that.Surely God will be good to us, and before long I will get a little place for you yonder.Why should you not come to me? There are missionaries' wives out there," he said.
"No, lad," his mother replied quietly, "I will not be deceiving myself, nor you.And yet it may be the Lord's will.But go away now and lie you down.You will need to sleep a bit, to-morrow will be a hard day to you."For twenty years and more she had thought first of her boy, and now, even in the midst of her own great sorrow, she thought mostly of him and his grief.
"Let me stay here, mother," whispered Shock.And so in each other's arms they lay, and from sheer exhaustion both soon fell asleep.
The morning's sun was shining through the chink by the curtain when Mrs.Macgregor awoke.Gently she slipped out of the bed and before dressing lighted the kitchen fire, put on the kettle for the tea and the pot for the porridge.Then she dressed herself and stepping about on tiptoe prepared breakfast, peering in now and then at her sleeping son.
It was with a face calm and strong, and even bright, that she went in at last to waken him.
"Now, mother," exclaimed Shock, springing off the bed, "this is really too bad, and I meant to give you your breakfast in bed to-day."
"Ay, it's myself knew that much," she cried with a little laugh of delight.
"Oh, but you're hard to manage," said Shock severely, "but wait until I get you out yonder in my own house.""Ay, lad," answered his mother brightly, "it will be your turn then."They were determined, these two, to look only at the bright side to-day.No sun should shine upon their tears.The parting would be sore enough with all the help that hope could bring.And so the morning passed in last preparations for Shock's going, and the last counsels and promises, and in planning for the new home that was to be made in the shadow of the Rockies in the far West.
"And the time will soon pass, mother," said Shock cheerfully, "and it will be good for you to have Brown with you.He will need your care, you know," he hastened to add, knowing well that not for her own sake could she have been persuaded to receive even Brown into her little home.
"Ay, I will do for him what I can," she replied, "and indeed," she added warmly, "he's a kind lad, poor fellow.""And the young ladies will be looking in on you now and then, so they said," and Shock bent low over his trunk working with the roping of it.
