'Nancy,' she now said, 'I'm going home!' Nancy sat up in her bed.
'Home, child?' she cried. 'What do you mean? Oh—no—no! You'd never leave me in my misery! You are frightened and upset. 'Twas an odious adventure—some trick of that beast Nicol. But to-morrow you'll be yourself again, Ally—my strength and comfort—my only one!'
'I got you the key,' said Alison, doggedly. 'I—I have done what I could. But now I'm going home, and you must not prevent me.'
Nancy burst into tears.
'Oh—Ally!' she sobbed, 'there's something between us!'
'Yes,' said Alison, dully, 'there's something between me and all the world from to-day. But I'll go home and hide myself—and forget. You'll not rise, Nancy,' she went on, 'for I've been to Jean and she will help me away. The coach goes at five—to-morrow is the day for it, you know, and I could not wait another week. I'll come in and say good-bye before I go.' Nancy turned her face to the wall, and sobbed and wept. But Alison's eyes were dry.
A few hours later she stood in Nancy's room again, in the grey dawn, hooded and cloaked for her journey. But her little friend had drugged herself into a deep sleep, and Alison did not wake her. In one of her tiny hands—the hand that had loaded Alison with easy kindness and covered her with a blame and shame not hers—was clasped the unlucky key. She breathed deeply and peacefully with parted lips—those lips made for laughter and for love—the swollen eyelids fringed and closed, the dark hair scattered on the pillow. Alison stood and looked at her long, without resentment, without love, without feeling of any kind, for feeling was numb with her now. Then she turned away, and went and kissed Willy in his sleep. And there were no other farewells.
'I doubt you are leaving us in trouble, Miss Ally!' said kindly Jean. She stood at the coach door—the March wind scattering the scanty locks upon her rough, broad forehead—loth to part from the young lady she had liked and served through all these winter weeks.
'Yes, Jean,' said Alison, sadly,' good-bye.'
'But, oo—it'll a' win richt i' the end?' said the cheerful woman, tentatively.