‘Is he gone?’ cried Isabel. ‘Oh, Ailie, look out after him, or kiss your hand to him. Oh, give him one look before he goes, as if you were a living woman, and no made of stone!’ And in her horror she rushed herself into the recess of the window, and waved her hand to him as he went away. Mr. John turned round before the door of his father’s house, which he was leaving, as he believed for ever. A strange smile came over his face. The woman whom in his madness he had compelled to marry him was there like a white vision, making no sign. But the other tearful face, full of emotion, was turned towards him; and Isabel, who had almost hated him for half her life, waved her hand in the compunction of her mind. ‘My Margaret!’ he said, softly to himself; and thus turned and disappeared out of the quiet world in which he was unfit to live. ‘He is gone! Oh, Ailie, he is gone!’ said Isabel, coming back from the window with a sob. ‘Aye, he’s gone!’ said Ailie; ‘and you are more moved than his wife. I know what you would say, Isabel, but it’s useless--useless! What is man to me? All that I ever was, all that I wanted, was to be the handmaid of the Lord.’ ‘But you are married to _him_!’ cried Isabel; ‘you are his wife; you should go with him, or he should stay with you. Oh, Ailie, if it is not too late----!’ ‘There’s nae marrying, nor giving in marriage in Heaven,’ said Ailie. ‘If there is a Heaven--if it’s no just a delusion like the rest. But what can I do? I’m willing to come to an end, and be done with all manner of life, if that’s the Lord’s will. Asking and praying and wishing for one thing more than another has gone clean out of my heart.’ ‘And you have not a thought for him, the moment he has said farewell to you--not a tear. Oh, Ailie!’ cried Isabel, in her impetuosity, ‘are you made of stone?’ ‘My heart’s dead,’ she said; and then relapsed into silence, which the hasty, eager creature beside her could not break. To leave her thus in her apathy seemed impossible to Isabel, and it was equally impossible to stay and devote herself to Ailie’s solace, for Ailie did not seem susceptible of any solace. She was lost in her own thoughts. Before Isabel’s heart had ceased to throb with agitation and excitement, Ailie had settled back into the profoundest stillness, saying nothing to her visitor, taking no notice even of her presence. And there was nothing left for it but to leave her to herself--to the silence she preferred. Isabel had just made up her mind to do this when the door opened again, this time with more sound and commotion, and Ailie’s mother entered the room. She came forward briskly, bringing the ordinary out-of-door life into the mysterious atmosphere, though a certain appearance of anxiety about her eyes betrayed that even Janet was disturbed by a state of affairs so much different from her hopes.