"Surely! I would like that well."

"Oh! it will come whether you like it or no. If he canna get one, he'll get another--there's no fear."

"Ah! but if he canna get the right one, he should take none. And he would ay have me."

Robin might have had his own thoughts about that matter. He said nothing, however, but that night he wrote a letter to his mother. He wrote about various matters, as once every week it was his duty and pleasure to do. And when he had said all else that was to be said, he added, that Allison Bain whiles looked as she used to look in her first days in Nethermuir--as though she had lost all her friends, and as though she might lose herself next.

"I told her to-night that her best wisdom would be to come away with me to America. I meant, of course, that I would go with her if she was afraid to go by herself. For they say there are fine colleges in America, and I could keep on with my work there. Allison is getting no good here, among her auld wives."

Mrs Hume smiled at Robert's proposal, and so did the minister, but they both looked grave at his account of Allison.

"It is a pity that she refuses to come here for a few weeks," said Mr Hume.

"Yes, it might do her good. Still it would not be as it was at first.

It was because her hands were busy and her days full, that she was helped then. It would be different now. And more than that, she seems quite to shrink from the thought of it. We will wait a while, and all that may pa.s.s away."

CHAPTER THIRTY.

"Then fare ye weel, my ain true love, And fare ye weel a while."

But Allison was in no such evil case as her friends were inclined to believe. She was growing strong again, and she had enough to do, and a will to do it, which to reasonable folk means content, if it does not quite mean happiness. She still lived in Mrs Robb's house, and went to the infirmary every day, and took pleasure in her work, the best of pleasure,--knowing that she was doing something to soothe the pains of those whose portion in life seemed to be only suffering and sorrow.

In helping these, she helped herself also. She forgot her own sadness, when she saw the weary, pain-drawn faces brighten as she came near, and she felt her own courage revived, and her strength renewed, when any weak and hesitating word of hers had power to comfort the hearts of some whom care or poverty or ill-requited affection had made sick, or sour, or hopeless.

There were complaining and ingrat.i.tude to meet now and then, from some of them. But, poor souls! they needed help and comfort all the more, because of their unreasonable anger, or their querulous discontent. Her kindest words, and softest touches, and longest patience were for these.

And when the cloud parted, and a light from Heaven shone in upon one sitting in darkness, or when, for a moment, the troubled and angry spirit was made to feel what the coming of G.o.d's grace into the heart is like,--was not that enough to make her content?

Doctor Fleming, though he said little to her about herself or her health, still kept his eye upon her, and soon became quite satisfied about her. Mr Rainy, who sometimes saw her pa.s.sing through the street, wondered when she would begin to tire of her self-imposed labour, and of getting her own will and be ready to listen to reason. But he acknowledged to himself, that, if one could judge by her look, she seemed well pleased with her work and her own ways thus far.

"She goes by, not seeming to see me or any other body, but her thoughts are good and pleasant thoughts, or I am mistaken. Still, I doubt, when she comes to stand face to face with 'the next of kin,' she may have a qualm of repentance for her foolishness. But a last will and testament is no' to be lightly meddled with, and I will do my best for her."

So he wrote to Mr Hume, asking him to use his influence with Allison.

He wrote also to Mrs Esselmont, whom he had known long and well. He had known her best in her youth, when, as he said to himself, she had kept as firm a grip of the good things of this life as most folk. He a.s.sured her that there was no reason, either in law or in morals, why Allison Bain should not have and hold, and make a good use of all that her husband had left to her, and he believed that no one would be so well able to set all this before her as Mrs Esselmont, since, as he had heard, she had for some time taken an interest in the young woman; and then he added:

"She has both sense and discretion, except with regard to this one matter She has been living a repressed sort of life of late,--indeed from all that I can gather, she never has had any other kind of life, which goes far to account for her hesitation--I will not say refusal--to receive what is rightfully hers. I think that she is afraid of the responsibility, and that she is not sure of herself, or of doing well the duties of a higher station. But she would soon learn to have confidence in herself; and with the friendship and the countenance of Mrs Esselmont, she need care little for the favour or disfavour of any of the rest."

Mrs Esselmont smiled as she read. If such a letter had come to her in the days when Mr Rainy knew her best--when she was young--when she had influence in her own circle, and liked well to exercise it, she might have been moved by it even more than it moved her now. For she _was_ moved by it. She had seen and known enough of Allison Bain to cause her to a.s.sent willingly to Mr Rainy's opinion, that under favourable circ.u.mstances she might hold her own in a position very different from that which she had hitherto occupied.

She had not known Allison during her first months at the manse, when, under the terrible strain of sorrow and fear, she had seemed to break down and lose herself. It was the sight of her beautiful, sad face as she sat in the kirk, that had first touched Mrs Esselmont, and afterward, her firm and gentle dealing with the child Marjorie. Later on she had learned to know well and to admire,--yes, and to love dearly, this reticent, self-respecting, young woman who was living under her roof, a child's nurse--a servant,--yet who in all her words and ways showed herself to be a true lady.

Such help as she could give, she would gladly give to Allison, should she of her own free will choose wealth and a higher position in life.

But to seek to influence her choice,--that was quite another matter. No one but Allison herself could take the responsibility of deciding what her future was to be. None knew better than Mrs Esselmont, how little, wealth and the esteem of the world had to do with peace of mind or enduring happiness. She therefore answered Mr Rainy's letter without committing herself. But she told him, that a journey to Aberdeen which she was intending to make, should be hastened, in order that she might the sooner see Allison.

As for the minister, he did with Mr Rainy's letter, what he was in the way of doing with all important matters on which he was called to decide. He considered it well for a night and a day, and then he laid it before his wife. She did not wait long to consider it. She said as she laid it down:

"John Beaton!"

"Well," said the minister, "what of him?"

"He would never wish it. At least I hope he would never wish it."

"And has that anything to do with her refusal, think you?"

Mrs Hume was silent a moment. Then she said:

"No. I do not think so. I am sure it has not. There is no use searching for reasons as far as Allison is concerned. She simply cannot do the thing they are wishing her to do. It is not a matter for reason with her, but a matter of feeling. And I quite understand it, though I could not hope to make this clear to Mr Rainy, perhaps not even to you."

There was more said about John Beaton and his hopes and wishes, but the advice which was to be given to Allison was not to be influenced by any thought of him, or what he might desire. What would be best for Allison herself?

Knowing her well, the minister could not but believe that she would be "a faithful and wise steward" of whatever was committed to her hand.

And he could not but have a thought also, as to the direction which her liberality might take under judicious guidance. But for Allison herself, was the possession of so much money desirable? Would she be a happier woman because she lived in a fine house, and had fine folk about her? And would these fine folk ever fully accept her as one of themselves, and give her what was her due,--not as a rich woman, but as a good woman,--one possessing rare qualities of heart and mind, one in herself worthy of high regard and honour? All this was, in Mr Hume's opinion, more than doubtful.

There was this to be said. A measure of happiness cannot but be theirs to whom is given the heart as well as the power to dispense wisely and liberally, and surely Allison would be one of these. Still, the conclusion to which Mr Hume came, was that Allison must be left to decide for herself.

So Mr Hume's reply to Mr Rainy's letter was not very satisfactory to that gentleman, and he could only hope, that as the months went on, something might occur which would suggest more reasonable views to them all.

Mrs Esselmont went to Aberdeen, and it so happened that she had an interview with Mr Rainy before she saw Allison. She owned herself impressed by what he had to say. Therefore when she met Allison, her first words to her were not those which she had intended to use. She spoke very gently and kindly, but it was with the desire to convince Allison that though it might not be for her pleasure, it might still be her duty to yield to wise guidance, and accept the lot which she had not chosen for herself, but which seemed to be the lot appointed for her.

She dwelt on the advantages which would naturally follow such an acceptance,--the good which in so many ways Allison might do, the position which she would have, and which she would hold with credit and honour.

There was more said than this, and Allison listened in silence, with a look in her eyes which brought Mrs Esselmont to a pause at last.

"Were these your first thoughts about me when you heard what had befallen me? And do you think that I would be a happier woman or a better, for being a richer woman?" asked Allison quietly.

"Not happier or better, perhaps, but you might be more useful. No, I must own that my first thought was, that you did well to refuse to receive anything from him from whom you had fled, and from whom you had hidden yourself so long. But you owe something to his memory. Do you not see how it would quiet the evil tongues which are raised against him, if you were to take your rightful place and do there the duties which he, I fear, neglected sometimes to do?"

"I could not go there," said Allison.

That was all she had to say. She had no reasons to give, and she had nothing to answer to all the good reasons which Mrs Esselmont had heard from Mr Rainy, and which she tried to set before her.

Mrs Esselmont kept her best argument till the last. It was not one which had been suggested to her by Mr Rainy.

"Allison, I can understand why you may shrink from the responsibility which the acceptance of your husband's will would bring upon you. But in a way, the responsibility would remain, even were you to refuse. You do not know into whose hands this money may fall. Think of the evil influence which a bad rich man might exert through all the countryside.

What is known of this stranger who is putting in his claim as next of kin?"

"Mr Rainy knows that he is the man that he declares himself to be. He has long known about him, and has always kept him in view. Doctor Fleming told me that. Yes, I have thought of what you say. But if Mr Rainy is satisfied, I think I am free to do as I desire to do--as I must do."

"Is it your brother who is seeking to influence you in this matter, Allison?"

"No. I have thought of what might be his wish. But I have had no word from him since--I do not even know whether he has heard of--what has happened. No one has influenced me. I am sure I am right in refusing; but right or wrong, I must refuse. Oh! say no more, for I cannot bear it."

She was doing her best to keep herself quiet, but the constant dwelling on this matter had vexed and wearied her, and Mrs Esselmont was startled by the look which came to her face, as she rose and took a step toward the door.

"Allison, my dear," said she, "you are worn out and need to be taken care of and comforted. Leave it all for the present, and come home with me."

The ready tears came to Allison's eyes.