We were ower young to take right heed,--and not very
strong. Mary took a cold, and she grew worse, and--went home to die at
last. As for me--I fell into trouble--and I dared na go home. Sometime
I may tell you--but I'm done out now. I'm near the end--and oh!
Allie--I'm feared to die. Even if I were sorry enough, and the Lord
were to forgive me--how could I ever look into my mother's face in
Heaven? There are some sins that cannot be blotted out, I'm sair
feared, Allie."

Allison had fallen on her knees by the low bed, and there were tears on
her cheeks.

"Annie," said she, "never, never think that. See, I am sorry for you.
I can kiss you and comfort you, and the Lord himself will forgive you.
You have His own word for that. And do you think your own mother could
hold back? Take hope, Annie. Ask the Lord himself. Do ye no' mind how
Doctor Hadden used to say in every prayer he prayed, `Oh! Thou who art
mighty to save'? _Mighty_ to _save_! Think of it, dear. `Neither
shall any man pluck them out of my hand.' Jesus said that Himself. Ah!
ye are weary and spent--but ye have strength to say, `Save me, I
perish.' And that is enough."

"Weary and spent!" Yes, almost to death. The parched lips said
faintly, "Come again," and the blue, beseeching eyes said more. Allison
promised surely that she would come, and she kissed her again, before
she went away.

She came often--every day, and many times a day, and she always had a
good word to say to the poor sorrowful soul, who needed it so much.
Annie lingered longed than had seemed possible at first, and there came
a day when every moment that Allison could spare was given to her, and
then a long night of watching, till at the dawning she passed away--
sinful, but forgiven; trembling, yet not afraid. Allison kissed the
dead mouth, and clipped from the forehead one ring of bright hair,
saying to herself: "To mind me, if ever I should grow faithless and
forget."

But many things had happened before this came to pass. For at the end
of the first week of Dickson's stay among the sick and sorrowful folk,
there came to her the message for which she had through all the days
been waiting. It was Doctor Fleming who brought it, saying only,
"Come."

"Is he dying?" she found voice to say, as they passed into the room
together.

"No. Oh! no. But he has come to himself, in a measure, and needs to be
roused. Your coming may startle him. That is what I wish.