this thought came
first to his master. When Allison came in she had utter silence for a
while. Brownrig took no notice of the newspaper in her hand, and looked
away when she took up the Book and slowly turned the leaves. But that
had happened before, and Allison read on a few verses about the ruler
who came to Jesus by night, and who, wondering, said, "How can a man be
born when he is old?"

"Ay! how indeed?" muttered Brownrig. "Born again. Ah! if that might
be! If a man could have a second chance!"

And then his thoughts went back to the days of his youth, and he asked
himself when and where he had taken the first step aside from the right
way, and how it came about that, having had his mother for the first
thirteen years of his life, he should have forgotten her. No, he had
not forgotten her, but he had forgotten her teachings and her prayers,
and his own promises made to her, that he would ever "hate that which is
evil, and cleave to that which is good," and that he would strive so to
live and serve God that he might come at last to meet her where she
hoped to go. Was it too late now? He sighed, and turned his head
uneasily on the pillow. The angry look had gone out of his eyes, and
they met Allison's with a question in them. But he did not speak till
she said very gently:

"What is it? Can I do anything for you?"

"Has the doctor been saying anything to you of late?" he asked. "Does
he think that my time is come, and that I am going to die?"

Allison's face showed only her surprise at the question.

"The doctor has said nothing to me. Are you not so well? Will I send
for the doctor?" and she laid her cool fingers on his hand. But he
moved it away impatiently.

"What I canna understand is, that you should have come at all. You must
have thought that I was going to die, or you wouldna have come."

"Yes, I thought you might be going to die. I dinna think I would have
come but for that. I was sorry for you, and I had done wrong too, in
that I hadna withstood you. But I wished to be at peace with you, and I
thought that you might be glad that we should forgive one another at the
last."

"Forgive--at the last! There's sma' comfort in _that_, I'm thinking,"
and not another word was spoken between them that day. And not many
were spoken for a good many days after that.

But one morning, when Allison had been detained among her "auld wives" a
little longer than usual, she came softly into t