“I am, Ned; that meal has done us both a world of good. Ah! here is Porson, just arrived at the right moment.”
“How are you, Ned?” the master asked heartily.
“I am quite well, sir, thank you. Sleep and the doctor, and the doctor's cook, have done wonders for me. I hear you came yesterday, sir, but I don't seem to remember much about it.”
“Yes, I was here, Ned,” Mr. Porson said, “but you were pretty well stupid from want of sleep. However, I am glad to see you quite yourself again this morning.”
“And now,” the doctor said, “we three must put our heads together and see what is to be done. You understand, Ned, how matters stand, don't you?”
“Yes, sir,” Ned said after a pause; “I seem to know that some one said that Mr. Mulready was dead, and some one thought that I had killed him, and then I started to come over to give myself up. Oh! yes, I remember that, and then there was an examination before the magistrates. I remember it all; but it seems just as if it had been a dream.”
“Yes, that is what happened, Ned, and naturally it seems a dream to you, because you were so completely overcome by excitement and want of food and sleep that you were scarcely conscious of what was passing. Now we want you to think over quietly, as well as you can, what you did when you left home.”
Ned sat for a long time without speaking.
“It seems all confused,” he said at last. “I don't even remember going out of the house. I can remember his striking me in the face again and again, and then I heard my mother scream, and everything seems to have become misty. But I know I was walking about; I know that I was worrying to get at him, and that if I had met him I should have attacked him, and if I had had anything in my hand I should have killed him.”
“But you don't remember doing anything, Ned? You cannot recall that you went anywhere and got a rope and fastened it across the road with the idea of upsetting his gig on the way back from the mill?”