‘Ah! there must be—something must be meant for me to do. Heaven must mean—thank Him! But is it true—a poor child? Can’t one ever be foolish without hurting more than one’s self?’
Jane told him the truth calmly and quietly, explaining that the survivor was entirely unhurt, and the poor little victim could not have suffered; adding with all her heart, ‘The whole thing was full of mercy, and I do not think you need blame yourself for heedlessness, for it was an accident that the place was not marked.’
‘Shameful neglect’ said Lady Rotherwood.
‘The partner—what’s-his-name—Stebbing—said something about his son being away. An untrustworthy substitute, wasn’t there?’ said Lord Rotherwood.
‘The son was the proficient in Leopardine Italian we heard of last night,’ said Jane. ‘I don’t know what he may be as an overlooker here. He certainly fell furiously on the substitute, a poor cousin of Mr. White’s own, but I am much afraid the origin of the mischief was nearer home—Master Fergus’s geological researches.’
‘Fergus! Why, he is a mite.’
‘Yes, but Maurice encore. However, I must find out from him whether this is only a foreboding of my prophetic soul!’
‘Curious cattle,’ observed Lord Rotherwood.
‘Well,’ put in his wife, ‘I do not think Ivinghoe has ever given us cause for anxiety.’
‘Exactly the reason that I am always expecting him to break out in some unexpected place! No, Victoria,’ he added, seeing that she did not like this, ‘I am quite ready to allow that we have a model son, and I only pity him for not having a model father.’