But Mrs. Stanbury heard none of these words. She had never connected this catastrophe with her son; neither had Bart himself done so. Jane West, however, inspired thereto by Mr. Mattacott, perceived the real significance of the situation, and she proposed to wait until time showed whether father or son was to fall. Now Mrs. Stanbury was herself faced with this hideous complication, and it struck her almost as harshly as the original blow had done. Her weak mind whirled; she became incoherent and spoke without sense.
"Leave it, for God's sake," urged the man. "You'll go mad at this gait. One thing be just as absurd as t'other. Some innocent fool saw your husband through the fog and shouted to him--perhaps just wished him a merry season or some such thing--and then went on his way and thought no more of it. Be sure you'll hear the truth soon or late, and you'll live to see your men as well and hearty next January as they are now."
"You mean kindly to say these things," she answered. "But 'tis vain, and you'll know it afore the year's gone."
"Well, give God Almighty a chance," he urged. "'Tis you will be dead, not them, if you go on so."
They reached 'Meavy Cot' and found Margaret. Her mother sat down, took off her bonnet and rested, while Madge stood a few minutes at the gate with Mr. Crocker before he started homeward.
"Try and cheer her up," he said. "'Tis that damned nonsense about the voice at Crazywell. She'll fret herself into her grave over it if this goes on."
They discussed the matter for a while; then Madge spoke of Bartley himself.
"Don't know what to be at," he said. "My life's stuck for the minute. I can't ask her again yet, and I'm not going till I have. Just once more. But the thing is to know what to be doing meantime--how to get a bit forwarder. How is she?"
"She's all right--silenter than ever to me, though. Sometimes I think she's judging me rather hardly and don't reckon I'm a very good wife for David."
"I'm sure that can't be. She's a long way too sensible to imagine any such nonsense."