Chapter Twenty Nine.
“Choosing to walk in the shadow,
Patient and not afraid.”
Allison had need of rest, greater need than she knew. The first days after her long watch and service came to an end were passed in utter quiet. No one came to disturb her, either with question or counsel. Mr Rainy, of course, took the management of affairs into his hands; and if he could have had his own way, everything which was to be done, and the manner of doing it, would have been submitted to her for direction or approval. It would, to him, have seemed right that she should go at once to Blackhills, to await in the forsaken house the coming home of its dead master.
But Doctor Fleming had something to say about the matter. He would not allow a word to be spoken to her concerning any arrangement which was to be made.
“You know that you have full power to do as you think fit with regard to the burial, and all else that may require your oversight. Any reference which you would be likely to make to Mistress Allison, would be a mere matter of form, and I will not have her disturbed. Man! ye little ken how ill able she is to bear what ye would lay upon her. As to her even hearing a word about going up yonder, it is out of the question. Leave her in peace for a while, and you will have the better chance of getting your own way with her later.”
“As you say, doctor, it is a mere matter of form. But forms and ceremonies cannot ay be dispensed with. She might like to have her ain say, as is the way with women. However, I can wait till later on, as you advise.”
So Allison was left in quiet. Brownrig was carried to his own house, and for a few days his coffin stood there in the unbroken silence of the place.
Then his neighbours gathered to his burial, and “gentle and simple” followed him to his grave. As the long procession moved slowly on, many a low-spoken word was exchanged between friends concerning the dead man and his doings during the years he had been in the countryside. His strong will, his uncertain temper, his faithful service to an easy and improvident employer, all were discussed and commented upon freely enough, yet with a certain reticence and forbearance also, since “he had gone to his account.”
It was a pity that he had become so careless about himself of late, they said. That was the mild way in which they put it, when they alluded to “the drink” which had been “the death of him.” And who was to come after him? Who was to get the good of what he had left?