een in
Brownrig's state from day-to-day, when the week came to an end, even
Allison could see that a change of some kind had come, or was drawing
near. The sick man spoke, now and then, about getting home, and about
the carriage which was to be sent for him, and when the doctor came, he
asked, "Will it be to-morrow?" But he hardly heeded the answer when it
was given, and seemed to have no knowledge of night or day, or of how
the time was passing.

He slumbered and wakened, and looked up to utter a word or two, and then
slumbered again. Once or twice he started, as if he were afraid, crying
out for help, for he was "slipping away." And hour after hour--how long
the hours seemed--Allison sat holding his hand, speaking a word now and
then, to soothe or to encourage him, as his eager, anxious eyes sought
hers. And as she sat there in the utter quiet of the time, she _did_
get a glimpse of the "wherefore" which had brought her there.

For she _did_ help him. When there came back upon him, like the voice
of an accusing enemy, the sudden remembrance of some cruel or
questionable deed of his, which he could not put from him as he had done
in the days of his strength, he could not shut his eyes and refuse to
see his shame, nor his lips, and refuse to utter his fears. He moaned
and muttered a name, now and then, which startled Allison as she
listened, and brought back to her memory stories which had been
whispered through the countryside, of hard measure meted out by the
laird's factor, to some who had had no helper--of acts of oppression,
even of injustice, against some who had tried to maintain their rights,
and against others who yielded in silence, knowing that to strive would
be in vain.

Another might not have understood, for he had only strength for a word
or two, and he did not always know what he was saying. But Allison
understood well, and she could not wonder at the remorse and fear which
his words betrayed. Oh! how she pitied him, and soothed and comforted
him during these days.

And what could she say to him, but the same words, over and over again?
"Mighty to save!--To the very utmost--even the _chief_ of sinners,--for
His name's sake."

Yes, she helped him, and gave him hope. And in helping him, she herself
was helped.

"I will let it all go," she said to herself, at last. "Was I right?
Was I wrong? Would it have been better? Would it have been worse? God
knows, who, though I knew it not, has