“You naughty girl!”
“I’m not naughty,” answered Euphra, affecting to imitate the simplicity of a chidden child. “My uncle is so fond of casting doubt upon everything! If salvation goes by quantity, his faith won’t save him.”
Euphra knew well enough that Mrs. Elton was no tell-tale. The good lady had hopes of her from this moment, because she all but quoted Scripture to condemn her uncle; the verdict corresponding with her own judgment of Mr. Arnold, founded on the clearest assertions of Scripture; strengthened somewhat, it must be confessed, by the fact that the spirits, on the preceding evening but one, had rapped out the sentence: “Without faith it is impossible to please him.”
Lady Emily was still in bed, but apparently more sick in mind than in body. She said she had tossed about all the previous night without once falling asleep; and her maid, who had slept in the dressing-room without waking once, corroborated the assertion. In the morning, Mrs. Elton, wishing to relieve the maid, sent Margaret to Lady Emily. Margaret arranged the bedclothes and pillows, which were in a very uncomfortable condition, sat down behind the curtain; and, knowing that it would please Lady Emily, began to sing, in what the French call a veiled voice, The Land o’ the Leal. Now the air of this lovely song is the same as that of Scots wha hae; but it is the pibroch of onset changed into the coronach of repose, singing of the land beyond the battle, of the entering in of those who have fought the good fight, and fallen in the field. It is the silence after the thunder. Before she had finished, Lady Emily was fast asleep. A sweet peaceful half smile lighted her troubled face graciously, like the sunshine that creeps out when it can, amidst the rain of an autumn day, saying, “I am with you still, though we are all troubled.” Finding her thus at rest, Margaret left the room for a minute, to fetch some work. When she returned, she found her tossing, and moaning, and apparently on the point of waking. As soon as she sat down by her, her trouble diminished by degrees, till she lay in the same peaceful sleep as before. In this state she continued for two or three hours, and awoke much refreshed. She held out her little hand to Margaret, and said:
“Thank you. Thank you. What a sweet creature you are!”
And Lady Emily lay and gazed in loving admiration at the face of the lady’s-maid.
“Shall I send Sarah to you now, my lady?” said Margaret; “or would you like me to stay with you?”
“Oh! you, you, please—if Mrs. Elton can spare you.”
“She will only think of your comfort, I know, my lady.”
“That recalls me to my duty, and makes me think of her.”