"But oh, my lad," she answered, "if the Lord doesn't take me home afore the time comes for thee to go, thee must leave me. Ay, and I should die happier, knowin' thee were safe away, and havin' a chance to be a good man, than leavin' thee here to be tempted and drove into sin. Ishmael, promise me thee 'll go, whether I'm alive or dead, when the time comes. Oh, my dear, dear lad, promise to obey me!"
"I cannot, mother, I cannot!" he sobbed. "I'll go gladly if thee are dead; but so long as thee can speak to me, and I can look at thee, I cannot go."
"They're not goin' afore hay-harvest," she said softly; "and, please God, I may be dead by then."
But as she lay awake at night, thinking of Ishmael, who was sleeping soundly in his old shelter, the cave in the limestone rock, she wondered what would become of him if she could not prevail upon him to leave her for ever, whilst she was still living. There would be no one who loved her to close her dying eyes, and hold her dying hand, and whisper last words of love into her dying ear, if Ishmael were gone. But, oh, how gladly would she rather die in utter loneliness if she knew that he was safe, and would have a new start in life!
The days passed slowly away; and the grass grew in the fields around, and blossomed, and ripened for the scythe: but still life seemed to cling to Ruth, weary as she was to die and set Ishmael free. She could no longer come down the ladder which led to the loft, where she lay in darkness; but whenever Humphrey was away, Ishmael was beside her in the darkness, within reach of her hand, as in the old time when he was a child. There was no stint of food for him now, for Mrs. Clift came every day with Elsie, and Mrs. Chipchase sent from the farm, or called in to see Ruth herself, and neither of them came empty-handed. It was only when the time came each day for him to escape out of the way of his father that he felt himself still an exile from his home.
"I'll not leave thee to-night," he said, one evening when she seemed worse than he had ever seen her before; "I can't leave thee to-night. Maybe thou 'rt dyin'."
"Nay," she answered with a long, low, sad sigh, "nay, Ishmael, there mustn't be a fight 'twixt thy father and thee over my dyin' bed."
"He'll come home drunk," he said almost fiercely; "and I can't leave thee alone with him."
"I'm not afeared to be left alone with thy father," she replied. "He was a good husband to me once, and he'll not be hard with me when I'm dyin'. I wasn't always as good a wife as I might ha' been: and I've a many things to say to him. Hark! They're running to tell thee he's comin' up the lane. Go, Ishmael; kiss me, and go quickly."
"I cannot go!" he cried; clinging to her. "P'r'aps I shall never see thy face again, never! Oh, mother, I cannot go!"