He was a tall man, with a brown face and smiling eyes, and the grasp of his hand was firm and kindly. They looked at each other for a moment, and then Allison turned a triumphant glance on Mr Rainy.
“Mistress Allison,” said the new-comer, “I have been hearing strange things about you.”
“But only things of which you are glad to hear,” said Allison eagerly. “I have heard of you too, though I do not remember ever to have heard your name.”
“I am Allan Douglas, the son of Mr Brownrig’s eldest sister.”
He had not time to say more. Allison put her other hand on the hand which held hers.
“Not Captain Douglas from Canada? Not Miss Mary’s husband?” said Allison, speaking very softly.
She saw the answer in his smiling eyes, even before he spoke, “Yes, the husband of Mary Esselmont,—the daughter of your friend.”
Allison turned with a radiant face to those who were looking on.
“And is not this the best way? Is not this as right as right can be?” said she, still speaking low.
Not one of them had a word to answer her. But they said to one another that she was a strange creature, a grand creature, a woman among a thousand. Allison might well laugh at all this when it was told her afterward. For what had she done? She had held to her first determination, and had taken her own will against the advice and even the entreaty of those who were supposed to be wiser than she. She had only refused to take up a burden which she could not have borne. What was there that was grand in all that?