"God knows I love you better than my soul!" said Allan; "but let me think. Father in heaven—I cannot think! My brain runs round."
He gave a slight lurch like a felled ox, and swayed forward.
Instantly, as a lamp that the wind blows out, all the anger went out of Elspeth Stuart's eyes. She caught Allan in her strong young arms and laid him on the worn couch, displacing with a sweep of her hand a whole score of volumes as she laid him down.
He lay a moment stiff and still. Then a spasm of pain contorted his features. He opened his eyes, and looked into his sweetheart's eyes. Then, with the swift astonishing clearness of the mortally stricken, he saw what must be done.
"Allan, Allan, what is the matter—what shall I do for you?" she mourned over him.
"Do this," answered the minister. "Take the cloak out of that cupboard there. I have never worn it. Go straight to John Allanson. He is my Ruling Elder. He bides at his daughter's house close by the cotton mill. Tell him all, and bid him come to me."
"The dreadful man who was so angry—that day at Lowe's Seat!" she objected, not fearing for herself, but for him.
"He is not a dreadful man. Do as I bid you, childie; I am sick, but I judge not unto death!"
"But you may die before I return!"
"Do as I bid you, Elspeth," said the minister, waving her away; "not a hundred choleras can deprive me of one minute God has appointed mine!"