him. It is near over now,
thank God."

"And have you never seen him nor heard from him since then?" asked Mrs
Beaton.

"I wrote one letter to him and he wrote one to me. That was at the
first. I wrote to him to tell him what I was going to do, and to warn
him what he must do when his time was over. I dared not write again,
for fear that--and even now I dare not go to him. When we meet it must
be on the other side of the sea. But I _must_ hear from him before
then. He wasna an ill lad, though ye might think it from what I have
told you. He was only foolish and ill advised.

"And think of him all these long days and months alone with his anger
and his shame--him that had ay had a free life in the fields and on the
hills. And there is no one to speak a kind word to him when he comes
out of that weary place--"

"And you would like my John to go and see him?" said Mrs Beaton.

"Oh! if he only would! Think of him alone, without a friend! And he is
easily led either for good or ill."

"Is it likely that he would listen to anything that an utter stranger
would say to him?" said John.

He spoke coldly, as his mother noticed with pain. Allison did not
notice it.

"But you would not seem like a stranger to him if you came from me. And
anyway, ye wouldna be strangers long. You would like Willie, or you
would be the first one who didna, all his life. And oh! he needs one
wise, and strong, and good like you. The very touch of your hand would
give him hope, and would keep him from losing heart--and, it might be,
from losing himself--"

She stood, bending slightly toward him, her eyes, which in spite of his
will and his reason had all these months haunted him by night and by
day, looking into his. She stood in utter unconsciousness of herself or
of him, save as one whose strength might help the weakness of another
who was in sore need. No spoken words could have made clearer to him
that he--John Beaton--was not in all her thoughts, save as a possible
friend to the unknown criminal, who, doubtless, had well deserved his
fate.

And to think of the life which lay before this woman, with this weak
fool to share it--a woman among ten thousand!

"She will need strength for two, and her love will give it to her,"
thought John, a dull pain at his heart with which some self-contempt was
mingled. But it was no time to consider himself with Allison's eyes on
his face.

"I could trust him to you," said Allison,