Allison Bain; Or, By a Way She Knew Not. Margaret M. Robertson
to see, but he said quietly enough, ‘Yes, Allie, my woman, tell him where your brother is—if ye ken, and where he is like to be soon if he gets his deserts. Speak, lassie. Tell the minister if you are going to draw back from your word now.’
“A great wave of colour came over her face, and it was not till this had passed, leaving it as white as death, that she said hoarsely that it had to be, and there was no use to struggle against it more.
“ ‘He has promised one thing,’ said she, ‘and he shall promise it now in your presence. I am to go straight home to my father’s house, and he is not to trouble me nor come near me till my mother is safe in her grave.’
“And then she turned to him: ‘You hear? Now you are to repeat the promise in the minister’s hearing, before we go out of this room.’
“He would fain have refused, and said one thing and another, and hummed and hawed, and would have taken her hand to lead her away; but she put her hands behind her and said he must speak before she would go.
“ ‘And is not a promise to yourself enough? And will you draw back if I refuse?’ But he did not persist in his refusal to speak, for she looked like one who was fast losing hold of herself, and he must have been afraid of what might happen next. For he said gently, always keeping a great restraint upon himself, ‘Yes, I have promised. You shall stay in your father’s house while your mother needs you. I promise—though I think you might have trusted to what I said before.’
“Alex, my lad, I would give all I have in the world if I had but held out another hour. For the words that made them man and wife, were hardly spoken, when that happened which might have saved to them both a lifetime of misery. They had only passed through the gate on their way home, when down the hillside, like a madman, came Willie Bain. And far and hard he must have run, for he was spent and gasping for breath when he came and put his hand upon his sister. ‘Allie!’ he said, ‘Allie!’ and he could say no more. But oh! the face of his sister! May I never see the like look on face of man or woman again.
“ ‘Willie,’ she said, ‘have you made what I have done vain? Why are you here?’
“ ‘What have you done, Allie? And why shouldna I be here? Stone is well again, even if it had been me that struck the blow—which it was not—though I might have had some risk of no’ being just able to prove it. Allie, what have you done?’
“But she only laid her white face on his breast without a word.
“ ‘Allie,’ gasped her brother, as he caught sight of Brownrig, ‘you havena given yourself to yon man—yon deevil, I should better say? They told me over yonder that it was to be, but I said you scorned him, and would stand fast.’
“ ‘Oh! Willie! Willie!’ she cried, ‘I scorned him, but for your sake I couldna stand fast.’
“Then Brownrig took up the word. ‘Young man, if you ken what is good for your ain safety, you’ll disappear again, and keep out o’ harm’s way. But that may be as pleases you. Only mind, you’ll have nothing to say to my wife.’
“ ‘Your wife! You black-hearted liar and villain!’ and many a worse word besides did the angry lad give him, and when Brownrig lifted his whip and made as if he meant to strike him, Willie turned from his sister and flew at him like a madman, and—though I maybe shouldna say it—Brownrig got his deserts for once, and he will carry the marks the lad left on him that day, to his grave. He was sore hurt. They put him into the gig in which he had brought Allison down to the manse, and carried him home, and the brother and sister walked together to their father’s house.
“Their mother was nearer her end than had been supposed, for she died that night, and before she was laid in her grave there came an officer with a warrant to arrest poor Willie on a charge of having done bodily harm to one of Blackwell’s keepers months before. Two of his cousins stood surety for him till after his mother’s burial. No evidence could be got against him in the matter and he was allowed to go free. And then like a daft man, Brownrig had him taken up again on a charge of assault with intent to kill. It was a mad thing for him to do, if he ever hoped to win the good-will of Allison, but it was said to me by one who knew him well, that he was afraid of the lad, and that he had good reason to fear, also, that as long as Allison was under the influence of her brother, she would never come home to him as his wife. But he might have waited to try other plans first.
“Poor John Bain, Allison’s father, you ken, had had much to bear what with one trouble and another, for many a day, and the last one fell heavier than them all. On the day when his son was condemned to an imprisonment for eighteen months, he had a stroke and he never looked up again, though he lingered a while, and Allison refused to leave him. Brownrig is a man who cares little what may be his neighbours’ opinion with regard to him, but he could hardly venture to insist on his wife’s coming home while her father needed her, for there was no one else to care for the poor old man.
“He came to the house while Mr. Bain lived, but one told me who saw him there often, that since the day of their marriage Allison has neither given him good word nor bad, nor touched his hand, nor lifted her eyes to his face. Doubtless the man must have his misgivings about her and about what is to happen now. It is a sad story thus far, with no possible good ending as far as can be seen.”
“Ay! a most sad story. Poor Allie! There seems little hope for her, whatever may happen. As to her brother, I should like to see him, and I assuredly shall if it be possible. I should like to take him home with me when I go, and give him another chance.”
“Ah! that is a good word of yours, my son. It would be well done indeed to help the poor lad who is not bad at heart. I never will believe that. But I fear he will do no good here, even if he can keep the land, which is doubtful now, for things have gone ill with them this while, and Brownrig, even for Allie’s sake, would never forgive her brother.”
“And it is as likely that her brother would never forgive him. Allison may in time forgive her husband, and may end in loving him after all. Time and change work wonders.”
But the minister could not agree with his son.
“Another woman might forgive and love him, but never Allison Bain. She can never honour him, unless he should greatly change, and then I doubt it might be too late for love.”
They were drawing near the house by this time, where many neighbours had already gathered to do honour to the dead. They stood about in groups of two or three, speaking to one another gravely about their old friend, and the troubles which had fallen so heavily on him and on his of late. And doubtless, also, of other matters, that had to do with themselves and their own affairs, and the times in which they lived; but it was all said and done with a decent and even solemn gravity suitable to the occasion, and it ceased as the minister drew near.
Another gleam of sunshine broke out between the clouds as the pony stopped of his own accord. The minister took off his hat and said solemnly:
“As a cloud is consumed and slowly vanishes away, so he that goeth down to the grave shall come up no more.
“He shall return no more to his house, neither shall his place know him any more.”
At the first sound of his voice every “blue bonnet” was lifted and every head was bowed, and then, pausing for no greetings, the minister and his son passed into the house.
But the younger man saw there no “kenned face,” so he did not linger within, but came out again to stand with the rest.
The house was a long, low-roofed cottage, with a wide door and narrow windows. The door opened on the side which faced the barns and outbuildings, and the first glimpse of the place was dreary and sad. For the rain had left little pools here and there on the ground, and had made black mud of the rest of it, not pleasant to look upon. After a glance to ascertain whether there were any of his old friends among the waiting people, Mr. Hadden turned toward the garden, which lay on the other side of the house.
There was a hawthorn hedge on two sides of it, and a beech-tree, and many