‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I hope Mary King was wise enough; but I hardly knew how it might be with such a number about the house—that boy and all. He is not gone, is he?’
‘No, he is not nearly well enough yet, though he does what he can to be useful to her. When he is recovered, I have a scheme for him.’
So Mr. Cope mentioned Mr. Shaw’s proposal, by which my Lady set more store than did Paul as yet. Very kind-hearted she was, though she did not fancy adopting chance-comers into her parish; and as long as he was not saddled upon Mary King, as she said, she was very glad of any good for him; so she told Mr. Cope to come to her for what he might want to fit him out properly for the situation; and turning her keen eyes on him as he stood near the cottage door, pronounced that, after all, he was a nice, decent-looking lad enough, which certainly her Ladyship would not have said before his illness.
Miss Jane did not stay long. Indeed, Alfred could not talk to her, and she did not know what to say to him; she could only stand by his bed, with the tears upon her cheeks, making little murmuring sounds in answer to Mrs. King, who said for her son what she thought he wished to have said. Meanwhile, Jane was earnestly looking at him, remarking with awe, that, changed as he was since she had last seen him—so much more wasted away—the whole look of his face was altered by the gentleness and peace that it had gained, so as to be like the white figure of a saint.
She could not bear it when Mrs. King told her Alfred wanted to thank her for all her kindness in coming to see him. ‘Oh, no,’ she said, ‘I was not kind at all;’ and her tears would not be hindered. ‘Only, you know, I could not help it.’
Alfred gave her a bright look. Any one could see what a pleasure it was to him to be looking at her again, though he did not repent of his share in the sacrifice for Paul’s sake. No, if Paul had been given up that Miss Jane might come to him, Alfred would not have had the training that made all so sweet and calm with him now. He turned his head to the little picture, and said, ‘Thank you, Ma’am, for that. That’s been my friend.’
‘Yes, indeed it has, Miss Jane,’ said his mother. ‘There’s nothing you ever did for him that gave him the comfort that has been.’
‘And please, Ma’am,’ said Alfred, ‘will you tell my Lady—I give her my duty—and ask her pardon for having behaved so bad—and Mrs. Crabbe—and the rest?’
‘I will, Alfred; but every one has forgiven that nonsense long ago.’
‘It was very bad of me,’ said Alfred, pausing for breath; ‘and so it was not to mind you—Miss Jane—when you said I was ill for a warning.’