I perceived that they thought me dead. I did not at this moment feel that I was hurt. I was curious to know what they would all do; so I closed my eyes again before any one perceived that I had opened them. I lay motionless, and they proceeded with me, according to Captain Crawley’s orders, to the banqueting-house. When we arrived there, my servants laid me on one of the Turkish sofas; and the crowd, after having satisfied their’ curiosity, dropped off one by one, till I was left with a single footman and my steward.
“I don’t believe he’s quite dead,” said the footman, “for his heart beats.”
“Oh, he’s the same as dead, for he does not stir hand or foot, and his skull, they say, is fractured for certain; but it will all be seen when the surgeon comes. I am sure he will never do. Crawley will have every thing his own way now, and I may as well decamp.”
“Ay; and among them,” said the footman, “I only hope I may get my wages.”
“What a fool that Crawley made of my lord!” said the steward.
“What a fool my lord made of himself,” said the footman, “to be ruled, and let all his people be ruled, by such an upstart! With your leave, Mr. Turner, I’ll just run to the house to say one word to James, and be back immediately.”
“No, no, you must stay, Robert, whilst I step home to lock my places, before Crawley begins to rummage.”
The footman was now left alone with me. Scarcely had the steward been gone two minutes, when I heard a low voice near me saying, in a tone of great anxiety, “Is he dead?”
I half opened my eyes to see who it was that spoke. The voice came from the door which was opposite to me; and whilst the footman turned his back, I raised my head, and beheld the figure of the old woman, who had been the cause of my accident. She was upon her knees on the threshold—her arms crossed over her breast. I never shall forget her face, it was so expressive of despair.
“Is he dead?” she repeated.