Allison came forward, and offered her hand with a smile.
“I am sorry that you have had the trouble of seeking for me,” said she.
“That’s neither here nor there. I am glad to see you safe hame again. Ye hae been doin’ your duty down yonder they tell me. May ye ay hae the grace to do it. I hae some words to say to ye. Will ye go with me, or will I say them here? I am just come hame from Aberdeen.”
“And you are done out. Sit you down and rest yourself,” said Mrs Beaton, as she rose. Allison put out her hand to stay her as she was about to leave the room.
“Bide still with me. Mr Crombie can have nothing to say to me, that you may not hear.”
The old man was leaning forward with his hands on his knees, looking tired and ready to fall asleep where he sat. He roused himself as Allison spoke.
“That is as ye shall think yoursel’. This is what I hae to say to you. I hae heard o’ yon man again. I hae seen him. And I hae come to say to you, that it is your duty to go to him where he lies on his dying bed. Ay woman! ye’ll need to go. It’s no’ atween you and him now, but atween you and your Maker.”
“It has come at last,” said Allison, growing pale.
Mrs Beaton sat down beside her, and taking her hand, held it firmly in both hers.
“It was an accident,” went on Crombie. “He had been drinking too freely, they say. He was in the town, and he set off late to go home, and was thrown from his horse. How it happened canna be said, but they found him in the morning lying by the dike-side, dead—it was supposed at first. But they carried him to the infirmary, and he is living yet. He is coming to himself, and kens folk, and he may live to leave the place, but it’s less than likely.”