She stood still, looking straight before her, forgetful, for the moment, of all but her own thoughts. Her hopes, she called them, for she could not but hope that some such work as this might be given her to do.
“Allison Bain,” said a faint voice from a bed near which she stood. Allison came out of her dream with a start, to meet the gaze of a pair of great, blue eyes, which she knew she had somewhere seen before, but not in a face so wan and weary as the one which lay there upon the pillow. She stooped down to catch the words which came more faintly still from the lips of the speaker.
“I saw you—and I couldna keep mysel’ from speaking. But ye needna fear. I will never tell that it is you—or that I have seen you. Oh! I thought I would never see a kenned face again.”
The girl burst into sudden weeping, holding fast the hand which Allison had given her.
“Is it Mary Brand?” whispered Allison, after a little.
“No, it is Annie. Mary is dead and—safe,” and she turned her face away and lay quiet for a while.
Allison made a movement to withdraw her hand.
“Wait a minute. I must speak to some one—before I die—and I may die this night,” she murmured, holding her with appealing eyes. “I’m Annie,” she said. “You’ll mind how my mother died, and my father married again—ower-soon maybe—and we were all angry, and there was no peace in the house. So the elder ones scattered,—one went here and another there. We were ower young to take right heed,—and not very strong. Mary took a cold, and she grew worse, and—went home to die at last. As for me—I fell into trouble—and I dared na go home. Sometime I may tell you—but I’m done out now. I’m near the end—and oh! Allie—I’m feared to die. Even if I were sorry enough, and the Lord were to forgive me—how could I ever look into my mother’s face in Heaven? There are some sins that cannot be blotted out, I’m sair feared, Allie.”
Allison had fallen on her knees by the low bed, and there were tears on her cheeks.
“Annie,” said she, “never, never think that. See, I am sorry for you. I can kiss you and comfort you, and the Lord himself will forgive you. You have His own word for that. And do you think your own mother could hold back? Take hope, Annie. Ask the Lord himself. Do ye no’ mind how Doctor Hadden used to say in every prayer he prayed, ‘Oh! Thou who art mighty to save’? Mighty to save! Think of it, dear. ‘Neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand.’ Jesus said that Himself. Ah! ye are weary and spent—but ye have strength to say, ‘Save me, I perish.’ And that is enough.”