“Oh, Mr. Ewart, is it possible—is he really dying?” exclaimed the young lady in unaffected sorrow: “so young, and with everything to make life sweet; it is really too dreadful to think of! Does he know the doctor’s opinion?”
“He knows all, and is perfectly tranquil.”
“What wonderful strength of mind!”
“The Lord is his strength,” replied the clergyman, and passed on.
Many an anxious inquiry after the young lord had Mr. Ewart to answer from different members of the household, before he reached the gardener’s cottage. He was desirous to know what effect his own deliverance and Ernest’s danger would have upon the mind of young Lawless.
He did not see Jack as he entered the cottage, and asked the gardener’s wife where he was.
“Oh, he’s there on the bed, sir, with his face to the wall. He’s never moved, nor spoken, nor tasted a morsel, since he heard that the young lord lay a-dying. I can’t get him to answer a question; he lies there as still as a stone. I can’t say if he feels it or not, he has such a strange sullen way.”
Mr. Ewart seated himself close to the boy, who appeared to take no notice of his presence.
“You are not suffering, I hope, from your fall? Yours has been a wonderful preservation; but for the generous courage of Lord Fontonore, you would have been now before the judgment-seat of God.”