"No; I thank God for it, I bring good news."
And the blood came into her cheeks with a rush.
I told her briefly how we had escaped from Preston. She listened to the story with shining eyes.
"And all this you have done for—for us?" she said with a singular note of pride in her voice.
"It is little," I replied, "even if what's left to do crowns it successfully. But if in that we go astray, why, it is less than nothing." Thereupon I told her of the plan which I had formed with regard to the Swallow, and of the journey which she and I must take. She listened to me now, however, with an occupied air, and interrupted me before I had come to a close.
"It is you who have done this?" she repeated in the same tone which she had used before.
"I did but keep my promise. It was made to you," I answered simply.
"I am your debtor for all my life."
"No," I cried. "It is the other way about."
"I do not feel the debt," she said very softly, and then raising a face all rosy: "Ah, but I let you stand here!" she exclaimed. "You shall tell me more of your plan while we breakfast, for I am not sure that I gave a careful ear to it;" and taking me by the arm she led me towards the dining-room. "You have come from Preston in all this haste. My poor child!" She spoke in a quite natural tone of pity, and I doubt not but what my appearance gave a reasonable complexion to her pity. It was the motherliness, however, which tickled me.