“Come into the manse. No one will be there till I have time to say what I must say.”
They moved on till they came to the lane that led thither, and passed out of the moonlight into the shadow.
“Allison,” said John, pausing, “you cannot surely mean to cut me off from all hope? You might come to—care for me in time.”
“Care for you? Oh, yes! I care for you. You are my friend, and Willie’s. But I have done you a wrong, and with no will to do it.”
Instead of going into the house they turned aside at the end of the hedge, and entered the garden. On the summer-seat, under the tall fir-trees, they sat down in silence. After a time Allison rose, and stood before her friend.
“John,” said she, “when I heard your voice to-night I was glad. My heart has been heavy with a great dread all the week; and when I heard your voice I said to myself, here is a friend who will help me. John,” she said after a moment’s silence, “it is my secret I am going to tell you—my secret that I have kept all these long months. I trust you, John. You will tell me what I must do.”
“Well,” said John, as she paused again.
“John—I am a wife already. It is from—from the man who married me against my will that I have been hiding all this time. You must not think ill of me, for I was like a lost creature when my father died, and I knew not what to do. I came away hoping that God would let me die, or keep me hidden till my brother should get away to the other side of the sea. And God has kept me safe till now. John, will you forgive me and help me?”
The hands she held out to him trembled. She was shaking with excitement and the chill of the night. He rose and wrapped her shawl close about her.
“Allison, sit down. Or shall we go into the house? I will do all that I can to help you—so help me God!” said John with a groan, fearing that he was past help.