“Yes. To-night he came to me in Mrs Beaton’s house, and warned me that it was my duty to go to a dying man. And if you tell me the same, I must go.”
She let her face fall again upon her hands.
Mr Hume did not answer her at once. He opened again the letter which he held and read it from beginning to end. It was a letter from Doctor Fleming, of Aberdeen, telling him of the state in which Brownrig was lying, and of his relations with Allison. He left it to Mr Hume to decide whether or not Allison should be told of Brownrig’s condition, and to advise her what she ought to do. He said that Mr Rainy, who had long been a friend of the Bain family, strongly advised that she should come at once to Aberdeen, and added, at Mr Rainy’s request, that as Mr Brownrig had kept up no close intercourse with any one belonging to him, it might be much for Allison’s interest to respond in a friendly spirit to this call. Dr Fleming, for himself, said that it might be for Allison’s future peace of mind, if she could tell this man that she had forgiven his sin against her. The disclosure of Crombie rendered it unnecessary to discuss this letter with her.
“Allison,” said Mr Hume, after some time of silence, “no one can decide this matter for you. You need not fear him any more, and it is well that he should know that you have forgiven him. And it would be well also for you.”
“Have I forgiven him? I do not know. I wish him no ill. I never wished him any ill, even at the worst, and if he is dying—”
Allison paused, and a look of something like terror passed over her face, but she did not utter her thought.
“Allison,” said Mrs Hume, “I think there is much in what Crombie said. If you are able truly to forgive his sin against you, it might help him to believe—it might open his eyes to see that the Lord also is willing to forgive and receive him.”
“You must trust in God, and do not try to look beyond the doing of present duty. The way is dark before you. But one who loves you sees it all, and He will lead you to the end, whatever it may be. I cannot see the end, but, Allison, I dare not bid you not to go,” said Mr Hume, solemnly.
Allison looked from one to the other, and over her face for a moment came the lost look—the look helpless and hopeless, which they had wondered at and grieved over, in the first days of her coming among them. But it passed away, and she rose, Saying:
“Then the sooner I go the better, and I need my time.”