Miles was gone with his father, and Rosie was in the Rectory nursery.
It did seem to me I'd ought to have been with Jervis all this while; but Mrs. Kingscote told me I was too ill at the first. She said I should go now as soon as I liked, only I must have some tea first; and she didn't think my shoulder would let me do much for a day or two. Which seemed likely enough, for when I moved the pain turned me sick, though the doctor had seen me and said there wasn't any bones broken.
While I drank my tea Mrs. Kingscote sat and talked with me, as kind as could be. Going back to Littleburgh couldn't of course be thought of yet, she said. Jervis couldn't be moved, and I shouldn't wish to leave him. If I liked, her husband would write for me to Jervis' employers.
Those weren't such days for clubs as these; but my husband belonged to a "Benefit" Society, and I knew we should have fifteen shillings or so coming in weekly while he was disabled—at least for a certain time. Still, I didn't see how we were to get along; and the lady seemed to understand my thought. "We shall help you," she said, "and I think we can find some work for your boy. We will look after you all," said she, "just as you looked after my boy when he needed it. I don't forget that!—or Miles saving his life!" and her eyes filled up again. "Don't you see, it seems as if you and we were bound together?" And I couldn't but thank her, and say how good she was to talk so. I won't say I wasn't proud of Miles in all my sorrow.
"There's just one thing more, Mrs. Murchison," said she. "I want you to say a kind word to my poor boy before you go. It's asking a great deal, just now when you are so tried, but he is almost heart-broken, because it was he who led you all under the cliffs, and he seems to feel as if in a way it lay at his door. But he had no idea of the danger. If he had, he wouldn't have taken his own sisters, you know."
"Nobody could blame the young gentleman, ma'am," said I. "It was just his kindness; and he was as ignorant as we were."
"I knew you would feel so," said she. And then she said, "It was my boy who put all those flowers. He is so upset. You will speak to him while I go to get my bonnet?"
As soon as she was gone Master Bertram came in, and, dear me, he was altered. He had grown as pale!—and all the fun gone out of his eyes. He just dragged himself in, as if he was so tired he could hardly walk, and he stood by me, and he said, "I didn't know there was danger, Mrs. Murchison. I'd have cut off my right arm sooner than—"
"I'm sure you would, sir," said I. "It wasn't your fault, no more than mine."
"If you'll believe me," says he—just as if I was accusing him. "And poor little Bessie—" says he. But he couldn't get on, and his face went as white as paper, and he sat down and dropped it on his hands, like he'd done in the train.