She put her hand on his shoulder, and he awoke directly, and looked surprised at Mrs. Wilson.
“Are you better, sir?” said the good woman. “Why, if it isn't the handsome gentleman that was so kind to me! Now do ee go in, sir—do ee go in. You will catch your death o' cold.” She made sure he was staying at the house.
David looked up at Lucy's windows. “Yes, I will go home, Mrs. Wilson; there is nothing to stay for now”; and he accompanied her to the cart. But Mrs. Wilson remembered Lucy's desire not to be seen; so she said very loud, “I'm sure it's very lucky me and my niece happened to be coming home so late, and see you lying there. Well, one good turn deserves another. Come and see me at my farm; you go through the village of Harrowden, and anybody there will tell you where Dame Wilson do live. I would ask you to-night, but—” she hesitated, and Lucy let down her veil.
“No, thank you, not now; my sister will be fretting as it is. Good-morning”; and his steps were heard retreating as Mrs. Wilson mounted the cart.
“Well, I should have liked to have taken him home and warmed him a bit,” said the good woman to Lucy; “it is enough to give him the rheumatics for life. However, he is not the first honest man as has had a drop too much, and taken 's rest without a feather-bed. Alack, miss, why, you are all of a tremble! What ails you? I'm a fool to ask. Ah! well, you'll soon be at home, and naught to vex you. That is right; have a good cry, do. Ay, ay, 'tis hard to be forced to leave our nest. But all places are bright where love abides; and there's honest hearts both here and there, and the same sky above us wherever we wander, and the God of the fatherless above that; and better a peaceful cottage than a palace full of strife.” And with many such homely sayings the rustic consoled her nursling on their little journey, not quite in vain.
CHAPTER XXVI.
NEXT morning the house was in an uproar. Servants ran to and fro, and the fish-pond was dragged at Mr. Fountain's request. But on these occasions everybody claims a right to speak, and Jane came into the breakfast-room and said: “If you please, mum, Miss Lucy isn't in the pond, for she have taken a good part of her clothes, and all her jewels.”
This piece of common sense convinced everybody on the spot except Mrs. Bazalgette. That lady, if she had decided on “making a hole in the water,” would have sat on the bank first, and clapped on all her jewels, and all her richest dresses, one on the top of another. Finally, Mr. Bazalgette, who wore a somber air, and had not said a word, requested everybody to mind their own business. “I have a communication from Lucy,” said he, “and I do not at present disapprove the step she has taken.”
All eyes turned with astonishment toward him, and the next moment all voices opened on him like a pack of hounds. But he declined to give them any further information. Between ourselves he had none to give. The little note Lucy left on his table merely begged him to be under no anxiety, and prayed him to suspend his judgment of her conduct till he should know the whole case. It was his strong good sense which led him to pretend he was in the whole secret. By this means he substituted mystery for scandal, and contrived that the girl's folly might not be irreparable.