“If I had thought it possible that the man was going to live, I would never have spoken to you, or let my eyes rest upon you that day. Yes, I was sure that he was going to die. And I thought that you might do him some good maybe—pray for him, and all that, and that his conscience might be eased. Then I thought he might make some amends at last. But well ken I, that all the gear he has to leave will ill pay you for the loss of the best years of your youth, living the life you would have to live with him. I canna take upon myself to advise you, since you havena asked my advice; but really, if ye were just to slip away quietly to your brother in America, I, for one, would hold my tongue about it. And if ever the time should come when you needed to be defended from him, I would help you against him, and all the world, with right good will.”
Allison thanked him gently and gravely, but he saw that she was not to be moved. A few more days, at least, the doctor was to give her, and then she must decide. Before those days were over something had happened.
One day, for some reason or other, she was detained longer than usual among her “auld wives,” and it was late when she came into Brownrig’s room.
“What has keepit you?” said he impatiently.
It was the first time he had ever directly addressed her.
“I have been detained,” said Allison quietly. “Can I do anything for you, now that I am here?”
“Detained? Among your auld wives, I suppose. What claim have they upon ye, I should like to ken?”
“The claim they have on any other of the nurses. I am paid to attend them. And besides, I am sorry for them. It is a pleasure to be able to help them—or any one in distress—my best pleasure.”
To this there was no reply, and Allison, who of late had brought her work with her to pass the time, went on knitting her little stocking, and there was silence, as on other days.
“What do you mean by saying that you are paid like the other nurses?” said Brownrig after a little.