Allison Bain Part 28

Then there were a few words spoken between them about the sorrow which had come upon him, and of his wife's last days, and of the long journey he had taken to lay her in the grave. Saunners told of the bonny, quiet place on the hillside, where he had laid her down, and before he had taken time to consider, the name of Allison Bain had been uttered.

"I saw the names of her father and her mother--'John Bain and Allison his wife'--on a fine, new headstane that had been put over them by their son. They hae been dead a year and more. Decent folk they seem to hae been. He farmed his ain land. I heard about it from a wee bowed wifie who was there in the kirkyard. She had something to say o' Allison Bain as well."

And then Crombie came to a pause. Mrs Beaton was startled by his words, but kept silence, for she saw that he had not meant to speak.

But in a little he went on.

"It was a queer story that she told altogether, and I hae been in a swither as to what I was to do with it, or if I was to do anything with it. I cam' the day to speak to your son aboot it, but taking a' the possibeelities into consideration, I'm no' sure but what I hae to say should be said to a prudent woman like yoursel'. I would be loth to harm the la.s.s."

"I will never believe an ill word of Allison Bain till she shall say it to me with her own lips," said Mrs Beaton, speaking low.

"Weel, I have no ill to say o' her. There was no ill spoken o' her to me. That is, the woman thought no ill, but quite the contrary--though mair micht be said. Ye're her friend, it seems, and should ken her better than I do. I'se tell ye all I ken mysel', though it was to ye're son I meant to tell it."

"And why to my son?" asked Mrs Beaton gravely.

It is possible that Crombie might have given a different answer if the door had not opened to admit John himself. The two men had met before in the course of the day, and all had been said which was necessary to be said about the death and burial of Crombie's wife, and in a minute Crombie turned to Mrs Beaton again.

"As to the reason that I had for thinkin' to speak to your son, there was naebody else that I could weel speak to about it. No' the minister, nor his wife. It would be a pity to unsettle them, or to give them anxious thoughts, and that maybe without sufficient reason. And John's a sensible lad, and twa heads are better than ane."

John laughed and mended the fire, and asked "whether it was Robin or Jack this time, and what was ado now?"

"It's aboot neither the one nor the other," said Saunners, with a touch of offence in his voice. "It's aboot the la.s.s at the manse--Allison Bain."

It had been a part of Crombie's plan "to take the lad by surprise" when he mentioned Allison's name, and he peered eagerly into his face "to see what he could see." But the peats, which John had put on with a liberal hand, had darkened the fire for the time, and he had taken his place beside his mother's chair and was leaning on it, as he had a way of doing when anything special was to be said between them, and Saunners saw nothing. "Begin at the beginning," said Mrs Beaton. So Saunners began again, and getting into the spirit of the affair, told it well.

They listened in silence till he came to a pause.

"It is a curious story," said John, by way of saying something.

"It was a curious story as I heard it," said Saunners. "Is the wee wine 'a' there'?" asked John quietly. "I'm by no means sure o' it. She looked daft-like when she shook her neive (fist) at the man Brownrig behind his back and called him ill names. And her lauch when she told me that the man had never touched his wife's hand since the day he put the ring upon it, and when she swore that _never_ had he touched her lips, was mad enow."

John's mother felt the start which her son gave when the words were spoken.

"And is it true, think ye?" said she. "There seems to be truth in the story, but where it lies I canna say. And whether it be true or no, I am beginning to think that I have no call to make or meddle in it."

"There is just one thing that I must say again," said Mrs Beaton--"I'll never believe an ill word of Allison Bain till with her own lips she gives me leave to do it! She is a good woman, whatever trouble may have been brought into her life by the ill-doing of others."

"What think ye, John?" said Saunners.

"I think ye did a wise thing when ye came to consult with my mother.

She kens a good woman when she sees her."

"There may be truth in the story. It may be a' true. But the question for me to decide with your advice is whether a word o' mine will help or hinder the richt thing's being done?"

"Yes, that is the question," said Mrs Beaton. She hesitated to say more. For she knew that to set one side of a matter in a strong light was the surest way to let Crombie see more clearly all that might be said on the other side.

"She's a weel doin' la.s.s," said Crombie.

"She is invaluable in the manse," said Mrs Beaton.

"It would unsettle them sadly to lose her, or even to have a doubtfu'

word spoken o' her," said Saunners.

"Especially just now, when Mrs Hume is not quite well," said Mrs Beaton.

"And what say ye, John?" asked Saunners.

"Do ye feel responsible to this man--whatever his name may be--that ye should wish to take up his cause? I mean, had ye any words with him about her?" added John, as his mother touched his hand in warning.

"No' me! The wifie said he was ay waitin', and watchin', and speirin', and there was a chance that he would have a word wi' me. I didna bide to be questioned. I just took the road without loss o' time, whether it was wise to do it or no."

"To my mind it was both wise and kind," said Mrs Beaton. "As ye say, there may be truth in the story; but the telling of it here will be the same thing to Allison Bain, whether it be true or false. She is alone and friendless, it seems, and that a young la.s.s should be spoken about at all is a harm to her, and a word might be the means of sending her out into the world without a friend. Surely the Lord was keeping His eye on her for good when He sent her to the manse, and into the hands of such a woman as Mrs Hume."

"Ay, that's the truth. And what say ye, John?"

"I say that my mother seldom makes a mistake when she lets herself speak strongly about any matter. I agree with her that ye took the right course when ye made up your mind to say nothing about the matter."

Crombie fidgeted in his chair, and was silent for a minute or two.

"I said nothing to the man himsel', but I did drop a word to Allison Bain. She said nothing, but I saw by her face that she understood. I only hope I may na hae done ill in speakin'."

The others hoped the same with stronger emphasis, and not without some angry thoughts on John's part. But to speak the old man fair was the wisest way. There was no time for many words, for Annie brought in the tea, and Saunners was prevailed upon to stay and share their meal. When it was over it was beginning to grow dark, and he rose to go, and John rose also, saying he would go with him a bit of his way.

The talk between them as they went on was not of Allison, but of quite other persons and matters, and it was kept steadily up and not suffered to turn in that direction. When Saunners spoke of the strange things that might be happening under "our very een," John listened in silence, or brought him back to the kirk, and the new members, and the good that was being done, till they came to the little house by the side of the moss, out of whose narrow window no welcoming light was gleaming.

"I'm no' used wi't yet," said Saunners with a groan, as he fumbled awkwardly trying to put the clumsy key into the lock. "It's the hardest part of my day's work, this coming hame to a dark house. But folk maun bide what's sent, and be thankful it's nae waur. Gude-nicht to be. Ye hae shortened my road, and mony thanks. I winna ask ye to come in."

"No. I must be early up and awa' in the morning, and it may be long ere I be home again. Ye might look in on my mother whiles, when ye're down our way. She's much alone."

If John had planned his best to win Saunners to friendliness, and to silence concerning the affairs of Allison Bain, he could have said nothing more to the purpose than that. Saunners accepted the invitation, and came now and then to inquire for the health of Mrs Beaton, and "heard only good words from her," as he said.

He had something to say to most of his friends about the place where he had laid down his wife to her rest beside her own folk, and even spoke of the "daft wifie" that he had seen there; but he never uttered a word as to the story she had told him, and in course of time, as he thought less about it, it pa.s.sed quite out of his remembrance--which was best for all concerned.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

"Fear hath a hundred eyes that all agree To plague her beating heart."

As for Allison, the thought of going away from Nethermuir to escape the threatened danger, did not stay long with her. It would be wrong to go away now, she told herself. For another little daughter came to the manse about this time, and Allison's strength and skill were tried to meet all demands upon them for a while. Yes, it would be wrong to leave these good friends who had been kind to her, and above all, wrong to steal away, as in her first alarm it had come into her mind to do.

And besides, even if that which she feared were to come upon her, and if by means of Crombie, or by any other means, she were discovered, the times had gone by when force could be used and a woman carried away secretly against her will. There would be a good many words to be said before she could be forced to go with Brownrig, even though he might, as he had said, have "the law on his side."

She would wait patiently till Mr Hadden should answer the letter she had sent him when she had first heard that her brother was set free, and when she should hear that Willie was safe in America, then would be her time to go away.

"I must wait patiently; I must not let myself fall into blackness and darkness again. Whether I have done wrong, or whether I have done right, there's no turning back now."

As far as Saunners was concerned it soon was seen that she had nothing to fear. He had only kindly looks for her now, and though his words of greeting were few, they were kindly also. The words of caution and counsel which it was "his bounden duty" to let drop for the benefit of all young and thoughtless persons when opportunity offered, had reference chiefly to the right doing of daily duty, and the right using of daily privileges and opportunities, as far as Allison was concerned.

And so the days pa.s.sed till November was drawing near. Then something happened. Auld Kirstin came home to the manse. "Home," it must be, thought the neighbours, who saw the big "kist" and the little one lifted from the carrier's cart. And Allison, to whom Mrs Hume had only spoken in general terms as to the coming of their old servant, could not help thinking the same, and with a little dismay. But her year's experience had given her confidence in the kindness and consideration of her mistress, and she could wait patiently for whatever might be the decision with regard to her.