Andrew heard. The meaning of the three lights was now explained. He had an immediate premonition that it was Sophy, and he instantly deputed his charge to Jamie, and was at the gunwale before the shouter had repeated his alarm. To a less prompt and practised man, a way of reaching the shore would have been a dangerous and tedious consideration; but Andrew simply selected a point where a great wave would lift a small boat near to the level of the ship’s bulwarks, and when this occurred, he leaped into her, and was soon going shoreward as fast as his powerful stroke at the oars could carry him.
When he reached Christina’s cottage, Sophy had passed beyond all earthly care and love. She heeded not the tenderest words of comfort; her life was inexorably coming to its end; and every one of her muttered words was mysterious, important, wondrous, though they could make out nothing she said, save only that she talked about “angels resting in the hawthorn bowers.” Hastily Christina gave Andrew the points of her sorrowful story, and then she suddenly remembered that a strange man had brought there that morning some large, important-looking papers which he had insisted on giving to the dying woman. Andrew, on examination, found them to be proceedings in the divorce case between Archibald Braelands and his wife Sophy Traill.
“Some one has recognised her in the train last night and then followed her here,” he said pitifully. “They were in a gey hurry with their cruel work. I hope she knows nothing about it.”
“No, no, they didn’t come till she was clean beyond the worriments of this life. She did not see the fellow who put them in her hands; she heard nothing he said to her.”
“Then if she comes to herself at all, say nothing about them. What for should we tell her? Death will break her marriage very soon without either judge or jury.”
“The doctor says in a few hours at the most.”
“Then there is no time to lose. Say a kind ‘farewell’ for me, Christina, if you find a minute in which she can understand it. I’m off to Braelands,” and he put the divorce papers in his pocket, and went down the cliff at a run. When he reached the house, Archie was at the door on his horse and evidently in a hurry; but Andrew’s look struck him on the heart like a blow. He dismounted without a word, and motioned to Andrew to follow him. They turned into a small room, and Archie closed the door. For a moment there was a terrible silence, then Andrew, with passionate sorrow, threw the divorce papers down on the table.
“You’ll not require, Braelands, to fash folk with the like of them; your wife is dying. She is at my sister’s house. Go to her at once.”
“What is that to you? Mind your own business, Captain Binnie.”
“It is the business of every decent man to call comfort to the dying. Go and say the words you ought to say. Go before it is too late.”