Part 43 (2/2)

”That is as ye shall think yoursel'. This is what I hae to say to you.

I hae heard o' yon man again. I hae seen him. And I hae come to say to you, that it is your duty to go to him where he lies on his dying bed.

Ay woman! ye'll need to go. It's no' atween you and him now, but atween you and your Maker.”

”It has come at last,” said Allison, growing pale.

Mrs Beaton sat down beside her, and taking her hand, held it firmly in both hers.

”It was an accident,” went on Crombie. ”He had been drinking too freely, they say. He was in the town, and he set off late to go home, and was thrown from his horse. How it happened canna be said, but they found him in the morning lying by the dike-side, dead--it was supposed at first. But they carried him to the infirmary, and he is living yet.

He is coming to himself, and kens folk, and he _may_ live to leave the place, but it's less than likely.”

”And who bade you come to Allison Bain with all this?” asked Mrs Beaton, gravely. ”And are you quite sure it is true?”

”Oh! ay, it's true. I didna come to her with hearsays. I gaed mysel'

to the infirmary and I saw him with my ain een. And who bade me come here to her, say ye? It was the Lord himself, I'm thinking. The man's name wasna named to me, nor by me. I kenned him because I had seen him before. And it was borne in upon me that I should tell Allison Bain o'

his condition. Or wherefore should the knowledge of it have come to me who am the only one here beside yoursel' who kens how these twa stand to ane anither?”

But Mrs Beaton's heart sickened at the thought of what might be before Allison.

”What could she do for him if she were to go there? He is in good hands doubtless, and is well cared for. Has he been asking for her?”

”That I canna say. But ye may ken without my telling you, that there is no saying 'wherefore?' to a message from the Lord. And it is between the Lord and this woman that the matter is to be settled now.”

But Mrs Beaton shook her head.

”I canna see it so. If he really needed her--if it were a matter of life and death--”

”A matter of life and death! Do ye no' see, woman, that it is for more than that? It is the matter of the saving of a soul! Do ye not understand, that a' the evil deeds o' a' his evil life will be coming back now on this man, and setting themselves in array against him, and no' among the least o' them the evil he brought on her and hers? And what kens he o' the Lord and His mercy? And what has he ever heard of salvation from death through faith in the Son of G.o.d?”

Mrs Beaton had no words with which to answer him, and they all were silent for a while. Then Crombie began again, more gently:

”And if he were to come out of his fever, with all the dreads and doubts upon him that hae been filling his nights and days, and if he were to see her face with a look of forgiveness on it, and the peace of G.o.d, it might encourage him to hope in G.o.d's mercy, and to lippen himsel'-- sinner as he kens himsel' to be--in the hands of Him who is gracious, and full of compa.s.sion and tender mercy. Think of the honour of being the means, in the Lord's hand, of saving a sinner like that!”

The old man had risen, and with his eyes on Allison's face, spoke earnestly, almost with pa.s.sion. But as he ended, he sank back into his chair again silent and exhausted. At a word now from Mrs Beaton, Allison rose and went out into the kitchen.

”Mr Crombie,” said Mrs Beaton, softly, ”it is a great thing that you are asking of Allison Bain. I know not what to say. I can speak no word to bid her go. I pray that she may be guided aright.”

The old man answered nothing. He seemed utterly spent and helpless.

”You have had a long journey. You are quite worn out,” said Mrs Beaton.

”Ay, have I. And it's no' just done yet, and there is a dark house and a silent at the end o't. But I'll win through it.”

In a few minutes Allison came in quietly.

”Mr Crombie, you are to come with me to the fire. I have made some tea for you, and you must eat and drink before you try to go home.”

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