“Pray to God to guide me in the right way,” she whispered, and then she went away.
Mrs Beaton slept little that night—less than Allison did, though she had much to do before she laid herself down beside little Marjorie. “Seek counsel,” Mrs Beaton had said. And this in the silence of the night, she herself tried to do. And gradually and clearly it came to her that better counsel was needed than that which she would fain have given to her friend.
Was it of Allison she had been thinking in all that she had said? Not of Allison alone. Her first thought had been of her son, and how it might still be God’s will that he should have the desire of his heart. And oh! if Allison could but go to him as she was, without having looked again on that man’s face, or touched his hand, or answered to his name. Surely, for this woman who had suffered much, and long, and in silence, to whom had come the blessed “afterward” and “the peaceable fruits of righteousness,” surely, for her it could not be God’s will that the worst was yet to come. Who could say?
“And yet, ah me! our worst is whiles His best for us and ours! I doubt I have been seeking to take the guidance of their affairs into my ain hand. No, no, Lord! I would not have it for them nor for myself. She is in Thy hand. Keep her there safe. And a soul’s salvation—that is a great thing—”
That was the way in which it ended with Mrs Beaton. But the day was dawning before it came to that. And as the day dawned, Allison was once more standing on the hilltop to take a last look of her place of refuge, and then she turned her face toward Aberdeen.
When she left Mrs Beaton and went round by the green, and the lanes, where she had gone so many times, and in so many moods, she was saying to herself:
“I will speak now, and I will take what they shall say to me for a sign.”
It was later than she had thought. Worship was over, and all the house was quiet, as she knocked at the parlour-door with a trembling hand. The minister sat in his usual seat with an open letter before him, and Mrs Hume’s face was very grave as she bade her sit down. But Allison was in haste to say what must be said, and she remained standing with her hands firmly clasped.
“I have something to tell you, and it must be told to-night. You will try to think as little ill of me as you can. I did wrong maybe, but I could see no other way. But now I am not sure. I think I wish to do God’s will, and you will tell me what it is.”
She spoke low, with a pause at the close of every sentence, and she was very white and trembling as she ceased. Mrs Hume rose, and leading her to a chair made her fit down, and sat beside her, still holding her hand.