Three weeks passed.
The first had been agony for Allison as Logan semiconsciously struggled against death. Fever, delirium, and pain marked the slow passage of days, while Allison attended him faithfully, leaving his side only when she herself could ward off sleep no longer. She had been stretched and tested in her new faith beyond the capability of her tender years. The strength of the bloodline of her ancestors rose up from within her, and both Ian and Alec marveled silently at the resemblance she had suddenly taken to their own two wives—in both the look in her eyes and the depth of her character. She had indeed, in a short period of time, stepped fully into her heritage as the next in the proud line of Ramsey women.
Even more significantly, through her late-night vigils of prayer next to Logan’s bed, she stepped fully into her heritage as God’s child, as his woman of valor. More clearly and personally than ever did she at last grasp the truth of the words she had heard since infancy: “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me. . . .” Never had a darker valley loomed before young Allison MacNeil and when it was over, a lasting glow of maturity flashed in her eyes from within.
At last came the morning when Logan awoke from his travels in the netherlands. Allison had nodded off to sleep where she sat. He looked up, saw her, and closed his eyes again, content to know that she was near him. When she awoke she saw that a change had passed. He seemed to be breathing easier, and the trace of a smile remained on his lips. With her heart beating anxiously within her breast, she rose and approached him. Her presence awakened him again. He smiled up at her. Though welcome beyond words, the sight accentuated all too clearly his pale, drawn complexion and his thin, wasted frame. She saw more clearly than ever what a terrible ordeal had passed.
“Oh, Logan . . . !” she said, weeping tears of joy.
“It seems I am a patient here once more,” he said softly.
“Yes, but this time I think you’ll remember which foot to limp on,” she replied, laughing through her tears. She felt such an exuberant joy she could not contain herself.
“I wish it were only my foot that hurt.” He winced as he tried to move. “I thought for a while I was going to receive new life and eternal life all in the same package.”
“Logan, I’m so happy for you. Mother and Daddy told me about their talk with you, and the prayer you prayed. I’m so sorry I ran away.”
“I think we’ll both be learning about this new life for a long time to come,” he said. “I tell you, Ali, on that night I didn’t think I had much of a life to give to God. But I learned something since—God knows a man’s heart, and you can’t fool Him. And when you think you’re dying, you don’t want to fool Him any longer.”
“I’m so thankful for all that’s happened.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “But I’m afraid I’ve just caused more trouble for your family.”
“Oh no! You are already like a son to them. You know how they are—it gives them pleasure to serve you. It does me too, more than you know!”
As the first week had been agony, the following weeks were bliss for Allison. Logan was strictly charged by the doctor to remain in bed, and had not the strength to argue the admonition. Allison was with him most of the time. She read to him, often from the Bible, frequently, too, from the old Scottish poet whose poem about the man-boats so tugged at his heart during his days of indecision. Usually they wound up discussing what they’d read. Sometimes Lady Margaret or other family members would join in, gently opening new insights to both of them concerning their new faith. Dorey quipped that he had a captive audience and likened the atmosphere, more philosophically, to that of his greenhouse. God was providing them a time of respite through which to grow and become strong and extend their roots down. But soon, like Dorey’s precious plants, they would be transplanted into the harsher elements of life outside the greenhouse, where wind and rain and snow and sun would beat upon them, helping them to grow stronger yet.
As wonderful as such discussions were, even more memorable were the long talks between Allison and Logan when they were alone, sometimes lasting until late at night. They poured out their beings to one another, as each had never done to another before. Both, in their own way, had hidden their deepest selves for so long. Suddenly there was so much to say, so much to share, so much to try to understand. Their spirits linked together inextricably and the love that had begun between them solidified upon the strongest foundation of love a man and woman can have—the love of God.
Thus, when Logan was at last given leave for an outdoor excursion, the turn of the conversation was not altogether unexpected by either of them.
They walked to the wild and tangled walled garden at the back of the house which Ian and Maggie had loved so much. Summer, as early as the spring had been late, had come full force to Stonewycke. The great old birch was heavy with fresh green foliage, and the untrimmed rhododendrons and azaleas lent splashes of vivid orange, red, and lavender to the woodsy surroundings. Tangled ivy wound around the feet of the bench where Logan and Allison sat. No more perfect setting could have been dreamed for what followed.
“Ali,” began Logan when they had finished talking about the lovely garden and the warmth of the weather the past several days, “now that the direction of my life has changed, I’ve tried to think what I will do with myself. I have no education, no money, and very few talents that could be marketed in an honest world.”
“You have more to offer than you think,” said Allison. “And I know your position here will always be open to you.”
“Yes . . .” Logan said, drawing out the word thoughtfully, “and I am grateful to your father for it. But there’s not a great deal of future in repairing another’s tools and equipment. I had hoped to have more to offer—that is . . . were I ever to settle down, it would be nice to have better prospects.”
“Settle down?” Allison cared nothing for prospects. Those days were past for her. All she wanted was the man she loved.
“You know I’ve never been one to worry about position,” Logan went on. “I never thought any nobleman was better than me in any way. But now I’m seeing—”
“Logan, I’m not making you feel awkward about your background, am I? That part of me’s dead and buried. I don’t care about class or distinctions anymore.”
“I know. But still, opportunities for someone like me are . . . well, limited. What can I do other than work with my hands for a few quid a month? That’s no way to . . . I mean, I could hardly expect . . . well, that would hardly be a suitable life for a man with a wife . . . like you.”
“Oh, Logan!” exclaimed Allison in tearful and joyous frustration, “you dear, dear fool! I love you! Do you think that matters? It’s different with us. We don’t need position. Besides, there is a family precedent we have to keep up, you know. Such things did not stop my mother and father.”
“Your father is a different man than I,” replied Logan. “I have things hanging over my head. Things which make me far less worthy.”
“I love and respect my father,” Allison replied passionately. “More than ever in my life, now that I truly see him for the man of truth and integrity and courage he is. But you are every bit the man he is, Logan Macintyre.”
“Oh, Ali, I don’t know how you can say that . . . how you could believe such a thing. But I thank you, and I love you from the bottom of my heart for it. I do so want to marry you . . . if you’ll have me. I will wait . . . or you can have me as I am.”
She threw her arms around him. “I would not take you any other way, Logan, than just how you are. Because that is how God made you. And it is the person you are that I fell in love with!”
He winced with pain at the exuberance of her embrace, but quickly recovered and drew her to him, kissing her tenderly. “Thank you, Ali,” he whispered in her ear. “Thank you! Thank you for accepting me. Thank you for loving me.”
“God has been good to us, Logan—seeing us through all that has happened and bringing us to this.”
They were silent a moment. Then Logan spoke again; this time his voice registering concern. “But your parents—” he began. “What will they say?”
“Oh, Logan, they love you! Social barriers mean nothing to them. I should know that better than anyone. Remember, they’ve been through it themselves.”
“Then I should talk to your father,” said Logan.
“My parents will be happy for us,” said Allison gleefully; “I know it!”
“I wish I had your confidence just now.”
“They love you already—as I do,” she replied.
“Logan,” she went on, “we will always be together—imagine it!”
“That brings up another matter,” Logan began, then hesitated. He had not been looking forward to this part. “As soon as I’ve recovered, I must go to Glasgow to see my mother and give her a personal invitation.”
“Of course.”
“And after that, to London.”
Allison frowned. “I’ve told you about Molly,” Logan went on. “She’s been like a mother to me, and I must see her—I want to share with her . . . well, all the changes in my life. And especially tell her about you.”
“Are you certain you have to go to London?” asked Allison, her voice quivering. “I don’t think I could keep from worrying about you.”
“This is not the sort of thing you tell a dear friend in a telegram or a letter. But I will be very careful.”
“I want to go with you, then.”
“Your parents are gracious and perhaps progressive,” he replied, “but that would be asking too much. Besides, I won’t be gone long.”
“I’ll hate every minute of it.”
Logan took her hand in his. “I still have a few more days to recuperate,” he laughed. “And I’ll need you beside me every minute!”
———
Later that evening, when Logan was alone, he heard a gentle knock on the door. His welcome was followed by the entrance of Dorey, looking more solemn than Logan had ever seen him. He walked in, clearly with some purpose on his mind, and sat down next to Logan’s bedside.
“I want to talk to you, Logan,” he began.
“Certainly,” replied Logan.
“Alec has told me of your conversation with him. I want first to offer you my congratulations, and to say—on behalf of Lady Margaret and myself—welcome to the family. We could not be more happy for you and Allison.”
Somehow, thought Logan, his face and tone do not indicate great joy.
“But I would be gravely remiss if I did not warn you that I think you are making a serious mistake by wanting to return to London alone.”
“Because of the danger?” asked Logan.
“More than that, because of the separation it would mean between you and your future wife. You know, I believe, something of the story of my past?”
Logan nodded.
“We all know the Lord has used it for good,” Dorey went on, “but I was so young and foolish. It was impetuous of me to send Maggie to America while I remained behind myself. Good . . . yes,” he sighed; “the Lord used it to strengthen us. But I just don’t want to see you make a mistake you might regret.”
Logan nodded again, receiving the words of wisdom from this man he had grown to respect.
“Take her with you, Logan,” he concluded. “Now that the Lord has brought you together, do not let anything happen to interfere with your love.”
“I will think about what you have said,” said Logan. “You may be right. Thank you.”
Dorey rose and extended his arm. The two men clasped hands and shook them firmly. “The Lord bless you, son,” said Dorey at last. “I meant what I said. Welcome into this family. I have no doubt that great good will come to Stonewycke and its descendants through the virtues you bring to the line. I pray the Lord’s fullest blessings on you and your marriage.”
It was now Logan’s turn to fight back the tears rising in his eyes. God had indeed prospered him beyond anything he deserved by bringing him into the wealth of this heritage.
The following afternoon Logan and Allison once again walked in the walled garden. Circumstances had kept them apart the entire morning.
“I spoke to your father last night,” said Logan quietly.
“And?” replied Allison expectantly.
“It was just like you said.”
“He smiled and shook your hand . . . am I right?”
“Well, yes . . . in a way,” said Logan with a smile. “He smiled. Then he gave a great roar of laughter. Then he embraced me in a huge bear hug that nearly burst my wound open again. When I winced, he jumped back, a pained look of apology on his face. Then he laughed again. And then . . . finally, he did shake my hand!”
Allison laughed. “That’s just like Daddy! So warm . . . so boisterous!”
“And I had a visit from Dorey too, late last night.”
“Yes?”
“We talked about several things. He welcomed me into the family, and gave me his blessing. He truly is a remarkable man.”
They walked on, hand in hand, saying nothing for several minutes. Finally Logan broke the silence.
“Do you still want to go with me to London?”
“Oh, Logan, do you mean it?” exclaimed Allison.
“If you want to. I’ve already spoken to your mother. She said she would be free to accompany you.”
“How wonderful. I can’t wait!”
“We’ll have a great time. I’ll show you all the sights of the big city! Molly will love you both!”
Turning, they walked back toward the garden gate. “Oh, Logan,” Allison said, “I’ve never been happier.”
“Neither have I, Ali,” he replied, bending to kiss her forehead. “God has given me everything. What more could be left?”
“Only more of the same!”
They left the garden and, laughing like two children, walked toward the great castle where they had found treasure beyond compare—not only each other but also the fullness of God’s love.
Lady Margaret, having seen them approach, walked to meet them. She reached out, took each of their hands in one of hers, gazed deeply into Allison’s eyes, then turned to Logan and did the same. She needed to speak no words. The love which she felt and the prayer of her heart for their well-being was written all through her face. They saw, received, and understood.
After a moment, she turned with them, and the three, still hand in hand, walked into the house to join the rest of the family.