"Tell me about Elsie," said Allison.
John had a good deal to tell about Elsie, and about other people. He had much to say about Mr Hadden and his family, and about their great kindness to both Willie and himself. He had something also to say of his own business and of his success in it, and Robin drew him out to describe the house he had built for himself among the maples, by the lake. A pleasant place he said it was, but it would have to wait a while yet before it could be called a home.
Then Robin challenged him to say truly, whether, after all, he was quite contented with his life in the new world, and whether he had not had times of being homesick, repentant, miserable?
No, John had never repented. He had succeeded in every way, far better than he had had any reason to expect or hope. Miserable? No. No one need be miserable anywhere, who had enough to do, and a measure of success in doing it.
"As to homesickness--it depends on what you call homesickness. My heart was ay turning homewards, but not with any thought that I had been wrong or foolish to leave Scotland. No, I am not sorry I went to America when I did."
And then, turning to Allison he added:
"And yet I had no intention of staying there when I went. If it hadna been the thought of finding Willie, I would never have turned my face to Barstow. Indeed, I think your Willie and his trust in me, and perhaps also my care for him, has had more to do with my contentment, yes, and with my success, than all else together."
"I am glad," said Allison, and her impulse was to put out her hand again. But she did not. She only said:
"How long do you think of staying in Scotland?"
"Only as long as my mother needs to make ready for the journey."
"And when you go will you pa.s.s this way? I should like well to see your mother, and say good-bye before she goes away."
"You must go borne for a while to the manse, Allie. That is what you must do," said Robert.
"No," said Allison, "I would like a quiet day with her here far better."
"And you shall have it," said John heartily. "That will be far better than to be there in the confusion of leaving."
Then John rose, saying it was time to go, and Robert, who was to see him a few miles on his journey, remembered that there was still something to be done, and hurried away.
He might as well have stayed where he was, for the parting between these two was as undemonstrative as their meeting had been. But when the young men had gone a few steps down the pavement, John turned back again to the door where Allison was still standing.
"Allie," said he, "say a kind word to me before I go. Tell me you have forgiven the presumption of that night."
"I have had none but kind thoughts of you since then, John," said she, giving him her hand.
He stooped and kissed it.
"I am not going to ask anything from you just now, because--But I must tell you--that I love you dearly,--so dearly, that I can wait patiently till you shall bid me come again."
Laying her hand upon his shoulder, Allison whispered softly:
"Will you wait till the year is over, John?"
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
"And I will come again, my love, Though 'twere ten thousand mile."
A year and a day Mr Rainy had given to Allison Bain, in which to reconsider her decision as to her refusal to be benefited by the provisions of Brownrig's will, and now the year was drawing to a close.
"The next of kin" had signified his intention of returning to Scotland immediately, and as he was an officer in the army, who might be sent on short notice to any part of the empire, it was desirable that he should know as soon as might be, what chance there was of his inheriting the property which his uncle had left.
Mr Rainy had written cautiously to this man at first. He had had little doubt that Brownrig's widow, as he always called Allison in his thoughts, would be brought to her senses and hear reason, before the year was out. So he had not given the next of kin much encouragement to believe that more than his five hundred pounds would fall to his share.
It was a matter of conscience with Mr Rainy. Whatever any one else might think or say, or whatever his own private opinion might be, it was clearly his duty to use all diligence in carrying out the expressed wishes of the testator. In the meantime he left Allison to herself, believing that frequent discussion would only make her--womanlike--hold the more firmly to her first determination.
But after all was said and done, this "troublesome business," which had caused care and anxiety to several people besides Allison, was brought to a happy end. Mr Rainy's house was the place appointed for the meeting of all those who had anything to do with the matter, either officially or otherwise; and on the day named, shy and anxious, but quite determined as to what she was to say and do, Allison took her way thither. She told herself that she would have at least one friend there. Doctor Fleming had promised not to fail her, and though he had never spoken many words to her about the will, she knew that he would stand by her in the decision to which she had come. She had confidence in his kindness and consideration. No word to deride her foolishness would fall from his lips, and even Mr Rainy's half-contemptuous expostulations would be restrained by the good doctor's presence.
She reached the house at the appointed hour, and found all who had a right to be present on the occasion, already there. It was her friend Doctor Fleming who came forward to the door, and led her into the room.
"Mrs Esselmont!" said Allison, as the lady advanced to meet her.
"Yes, Allison, I am here," said she gravely.
There were a number of gentlemen present, and voices were heard also, in the room beyond. Mrs Esselmont's presence and support were just what Allison needed to help her self-possession, as Mr Rainy brought one after another to greet her; and she went through the ceremony of introduction with a gentle dignity which surprised only those to whom she was a stranger. The last hand that was held out to her was that of "the next of kin," as Mr Rainy announced gravely.
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?
"As right as right can be," she repeated, as she went over to the sofa where Mrs Esselmont was sitting. "And now you will have your Mary home again," said she.
Her Mary was there already. A fair, slender woman with a delicate face, was holding out her hand to Allison.
"I am glad to see the Allison of whom my mother has so often told me,"
said she.
"And I am glad you are come home for her sake," said Allison.
There was no long discussion of the matter needed after this. Mr Rainy might be trusted to complete all arrangements as speedily as might be, and it was with a lightened heart that Allison saw one after another of those concerned take their departure.