as I had been, but found myself instead lying about on the sunny side of
the braes, with my own lips parted and my eyes staring just the same as
Cousin Edie's used to do. It had satisfied me and filled my whole life
that I could run faster and jump higher than my neighbour; but now all
that seemed such a little thing, and I yearned, and yearned, and looked
up at the big arching sky, and down at the flat blue sea, and felt that
there was something wanting, but could never lay my tongue to what that
something was. And I became quick of temper too, for my nerves seemed
all of a fret, and when my mother would ask me what ailed me, or my
father would speak of my turning my hand to work, I would break into
such sharp bitter answers as I have often grieved over since. Ah! a man
may have more than one wife, and more than one child, and more than one
friend; but he can never have but the one mother, so let him cherish her
while he may.

One day when I came in from the sheep, there was my father sitting with
a letter in his hands, which was a very rare thing with us, except when
the factor wrote for the rent. Then as I came nearer to him I saw that
he was crying, and I stood staring, for I had always thought that it was
not a thing that a man could do. I can see him now, for he had so deep
a crease across his brown cheek that no tear could pass it, but must
trickle away sideways and so down to his ear, hopping off on to the
sheet of paper. My mother sat beside him and stroked his hands like she
did the cat's back when she would soothe it.

"Aye, Jeannie," said he, "poor Willie's gone. It's from the lawyer, and
it was sudden or they'd ha' sent word of it. Carbuncle, he says, and a
flush o' blood to the head."

"Ah! well, his trouble's over," said my mother.