“And how is your patient the day, puir man?” said she who was bowed with rheumatism being ‘no’ fifty yet.
“We heard that the minister had been sent for to see him,” said another. “It is to be hoped that he will do him some good.”
Allison answered them both quietly: “He is just as usual. Yes, the minister has been there,” and moved on to some one else.
It was the hour which she usually spent among them, and she went from one bed to another, saying and doing what was needed for the suffering or fretful poor souls among them, answering kindly and firmly, with never-failing patience, the grateful looks of some, and the dull complaining of others, till the time came which set her free to go her own way again.
She was the better for the hour which she had dreaded when she first came in. She no longer felt the touch of that hot hand on hers, or the gaze of the eager eyes, which she had met with such sinking of heart. She was herself again.
“To think that I should grow fainthearted this day of all days, when for the first time he seemed to be touched by a good man’s words. I should be rejoicing and thankful. And whatever else is true, it is true that He who brought me here, kens the end, though I do not.”
And so she went home to her rest, and the next day was like all the days, except that the sick man, as Dickson put it, “wasna sae ill to do wi’.” It became evident to both doctor and nurse, that Brownrig had at last taken in the thought that he might be going to die. He said nothing for a while, but he marked their words and watched their ways, and when Dr Kirke came, which he did every few days, he listened with patience which grew to pleasure as time went on. When at last he repeated to Doctor Fleming himself, the question which he had put to Allison, the doctor’s rather ambiguous answer did not satisfy him.
“I see you have your own thoughts about it,” said Brownrig. “I think you are mistaken. I do not mean to die if I can help it. I wish to live, and I mean to live—if such is God’s will,” he added, after a pause. “I’m no’ going to let myself slip out o’ life without a struggle for it. I have a strong will, which hasna ay been guided to good ends, ye’ll say, and I acknowledge it. But ‘all that a man hath will he give for his life,’ the Book says, And I will do my best to live.”
The doctor said nothing.
“It is not that I’m feared to die. If all is true that Doctor Kirke has been saying to me, why should I fear? ‘More willing to forgive, than ye are to be forgiven,’ says he. And I can believe it. I do believe it. If Allison Bain can forgive, surely He will not refuse, who is ‘merciful and full of compassion’. And I hope—I believe—that I am forgiven.”