It was his uncle, Macdonald Bhain, who finally made him see it.
"Your father is failing, Ranald," he said one day toward the close of harvest.
"It is the hot weather," said Ranald.

"He will be better in the fall." "Ranald, my boy," said his uncle, gravely, "your father will fade with the leaf, and the first snow will lie upon him." And then Ranald fairly faced the fact that before long he would be alone in the world.

Without any exchange of words, he and his father came to understand each other, and they both knew that they were spending their last days on earth together.

On the son's side, they were days of deepening sorrow; but with the father, every day seemed to bring him a greater peace of mind and a clearer shining of the light that never fades.

To his son, Macdonald Dubh never spoke of the death that he felt to be drawing nearer, but he often spoke to him of the life he would like his son to live.