Margaret M. Robertson

Margaret M. Robertson

Summary

Portrait of Margaret M. Robertson Margaret M. Robertson The Orphans of Glen Elder

Nancy’s face was a sight to see. At first she could have been angry; but her look changed and softened strangely at the touch of Lilias’s lips upon her hand.
“My dear,” said she gently, “it’s easy to say ‘my aunt,’ but it is you who have borne the burden for her this while, poor helpless body!”
“Yes,” said Lilias, eagerly. “Just because she is helpless, we must consider her the more; and she might not be pleased at my speaking to you first. But if we really need it, we will come to you; for you are a true friend. And you won’t be angry?”
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Margaret M. Robertson Margaret M. Robertson The Orphans of Glen Elder

Mrs Blair could not speak for a moment; and Lilias, startled by her grave looks, exclaimed:
“Does Dr Gordon think my mother worse?”
“She is not much better, I fear, love,” said her aunt, drawing her towards her, and holding her hands firmly in her own. Lilias gave a fearful glance into her face. The truth flashed upon her; but she put it from her in terror.
“We must have patience, aunt. She has had no time to grow better yet.”
“Yes, love; we must have patience. Whatever God shall see fit to send on us, we must not distrust Him, Lilias.”
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Margaret M. Robertson Margaret M. Robertson The Orphans of Glen Elder

They went home to Glen Elder in May. Three years passed, and May came again, and Glen Elder and Kirklands, and all the hills and dales between, were looking their loveliest in their changing robes of brown and purple and green. The air was sweet with the scent of hawthorn-blossoms, and vocal with the song of birds and the hum of bees. There was not a fleck of cloud on all the sky, nor of mist on all the hills. The day was perfect, warm, bright, and still; such a day as does not come many times in all the Scottish year.
Source: Gutenberg

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