“‘Hadden?’ he said. ‘I’ll hae a word wi’ him.’ And he gaed off in a hurry, and I was glad enow. Then I cried after him: ‘Take ye’re dog wi’ ye, and the next time ye come leave him at hame.’ But he never heeded, but hurried awa’.”
“And what happened then?” asked Saunners, trying to hide the interest he took in the story, lest she should suspect that he had a reason for it.
“Doubtless Mr Hadden told him the truth. There was little to tell. But naething came o’ it, nor of a’ the search which he has keepit up since then near and far. It gaes me lauch when I think about it. He was mad wi’ the love of her, and the last time he touched her hand was when he put the ring upon it in the kirk. Her lips he never touched—that I’ll daur to swear. And a’ this time he has been livin’ in the house that he made sae grand and fine for her. And doesna he hate it waur than pain or sin by this time? Ay! that does he,” said she with her shrill laughter. “He has had a hard year o’ it. He gaes here and there; and when a new-comer is to be seen among us, his een is upon him to mak’ sure that he mayna hae something to say to the folk that bides in Grassie—that’s the Bains’ farm. And gin he thocht one had a word to say about Allie, he would gar his black dog rive him in bits but he would get it out o’ him.”
Then a change came over the old woman’s face.
“And how did she get awa’ at last?” asked Crombie, growing uneasy under her eye.
“Oh! she won awa’ easy eneuch in a while. She was far frae weel then, and I’m thinkin’ that she’s maybe dead and a’ her troubles ower by this time.”
“And her name was Allie Bain, was it?”
“Ay, ay! her name was Allie Bain.”
“Weel, I need to be goin’ now. I thank ye for yer story. And if ever I happen to see her, I’se tell her that I saw a frien’ o’ hers wha spak’ weel o’ her. And what may ye’re ain name be?”
“My name’s neither this nor that, that ye should seek to ken it. And, man! gin ye’re een should ever licht on ane that ca’s hersel’ Allie Bain, gae by her, as gin she wasna there. It’s better that neither man nor woman should ken where she has made her refuge, lest ane should speak her name by chance, and the birds o’ the air should carry the sound o’ it to her enemy ower yonder. Na, na! The least said is soonest mended, though I doubt I have been sayin’ mair than was wise mysel’. But ye seem a decent-like bodie, and ye were in sair trouble, and I thocht I micht hearten ye with friendly words ere ye gaed awa’. But hae ye naething to say about Allison Bain neither to man nor woman, for ill would be sure to come o’ it.”