“I do not understand you, Allison,” said Mrs Hume.
“It could not have been right prayer, ye ken, since it wasna answered.”
“But the answer may be to come yet. It may come in God’s way, not in yours.”
“Can the dead live again?” said Allison with dilating eyes.
“Surely, they will live again. Is it your father, Allie? or your mother? They served the Lord, you said yourself, and they are now in His presence. Death is not a dreadful thing to come to such as they, that you should grudge it.”
Allison had sunk down on a low stool, and laid her face on her arm, but she raised it now as she answered:
“But they didna just die. They were killed. Their hearts were broken by the one they loved best in the world. That cannot be changed. Even the Lord himself cannot blot out that and make it as if it had never been.”
“The Lord himself! Was there sin in it, Allie? But do you not mind? ‘The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin.’ It can be blotted out. It is never too late for that.”
But Allison made no answer. Rising with a cry she turned and went out without a word.
Mrs Hume was greatly moved, wishing earnestly that she had not spoken. If the minister had been in his study, she would have gone to him with her trouble. But he was out. So she went into the parlour, where she had only little Marjorie for company. She had not even Marjorie for the moment, for the child had fallen asleep in her absence. As she thought about it, she was not so sure that she had made a mistake, or that there was anything to regret. Better to be moved to anguish by sorrowful memories, or even by remorse, than to live on in the dull heaviness of heart, which had been Allison’s state since she came to them, she thought at last, and she was sure of it when, after a little, the door opened, and Allison said, without showing her face: