A letter came from her brother at last. It was dated at a strange place in the West, and it was not a cheerful letter.
“It is a long time since I wrote to you,” he said. “I had no heart to write. I was grieved and angry, and I would only have hurt you with my words. But I have not made so much of my own life that I should venture to find fault with what you are doing with yours. As to my plans that you asked about, I have none now. I may wait a while before I think of getting a home of my own, since I am not like to have any one to share it with me. Oh! Allie, how is it that all our fine hopes and plans have come to nothing? It was your duty, you thought, to take the step you have taken. I cannot see it so. Having once gone to him, you can never leave him till death comes to part you. You might as well have gone at the first as at the last, and you would have saved yourself the trouble of years. But it is useless to say more—”
Then he went on to tell her that he had come West to see the country—and a fine country it was, grand for growing grain. He had not made up his mind to stay in it. “It is a fine country, but it has a dreary look to me. There is not a hill to be seen far or near, and in some parts, not a tree for scores of miles. I hardly think I will stay here long.”
Allison read all this with painful misgivings. Willie alone and discouraged, and alas! open to temptation, perhaps, as he had been before—how would it end? Her heart sank within her, and she said to herself, that there was no need for her to wait for a settlement of that troublesome business. There were those who could settle it without her help, and she would away to her brother.
His name was signed at the end of the page, but she turned the leaf over and read a few lines more.
“I have gotten a letter from John Beaton, and I have made up my mind to go back to Barstow. John says he is going home to bring out his mother, and he will give you all the news—so no more at present.”
Allison’s heart was lightened as she read.
“There cannot be much wrong with him since he is going back again,” she thought, “and I can wait patiently till his friend comes, to hear more.”
She had not long to wait. One night, when she came home in the early gloaming, she found Mrs Robb standing at the door.
“Mr Robert is in the room,” said she, “and a friend with him. He asked for you, and I thought ye might maybe like to take off your cap and change your gown before you went in to them.”