“When was he hurt?” she asked as steadily as she could. “And what—was it anything serious?”
“He fell just after he left here,” said Aleck, “and he cut himself, and I fancy cracked a rib or two. Nothing much if he could have laid up and had the things tended properly. But he’d no bandages and little water—he’d to be careful about going near water you see, knowing the trackers would be watching there—and the things got inflamed and so on. And scrambling about on his feet didn’t help.”
So he had been wounded and suffering when she met him, Ess thought, and he had never said a word, and—and she had struck him—struck her whip across his face. She shivered. Then she remembered that woman in the hut and hardened her heart. “But wasn’t someone looking after him?” she asked. “You know you said he was in good hands.”
“Yes,” said Aleck, “I fixed that.”
“You—you fixed it?” she said breathlessly. “How did you—who was it——”
“Steady, steady, Miss Ess,” said Aleck. “I’m talking too much. I shouldn’t have said as much, perhaps. But do you know,” he went on, looking curiously at her, “I was ass enough to think once—you don’t mind my saying it to you? I wouldn’t to anyone else—that you were rather fond of Stevie and—well, I was surprised when I heard about you and Ned.”
“I was—fond—of him, Aleck,” she said a trifle jerkily. “But—well, you know I’m to marry Ned.”
Aleck grunted.
“Was it a girl was looking after him?” she said, trying to speak carelessly.
“I’d much rather you didn’t ask me anything about that, Miss Ess,” said Aleck. “I shouldn’t have spoken of it at all, perhaps. I’ve no right to speak of what is really Steve’s business. You mustn’t mind my saying so.”