For a moment Durward’s cheek flushed at the idea of Lena’s being cared for by such as Jerry, but the next instant his heart grew warm toward the uncouth driver who, without any possible motive save the promptings of his own kindly nature, had thus thought of the stranger girl. Erelong the stage was announced as ready and waiting, but to the surprise and regret of his fellow-passengers, who had found him a most agreeable traveling companion, Durward said he was not going any further that day.
“A new streak, ain’t it?” asked Jerry, who knew he was booked for the entire route; but the young man made no reply, and the fresh, spirited horses soon bore the lumbering vehicle far out of sight, leaving him to watch the cloud of dust which it carried in its train.
Uncle Timothy was in his element, for it was not often that a guest of Durward’s appearance honored his house with more than a passing call, and with the familiarity so common to a country landlord, he slapped him on the shoulder, telling him “there was the tallest kind of fish in the Honeoye,” whose waters, through the thick foliage of the trees were just discernible, sparkling and gleaming in the bright sunlight.
“I never fish, thank you, sir,” answered Durward, while the good-natured landlord continued: “Now you don’t say it! Hunt, then, mebby?”
“Occasionally,” said Durward, adding, “But my reason for stopping here is of entirely a different nature. I hear there is with you a sick lady. She is a friend of mine, and I am staying to see that she is well attended to.”
“Yes, yes,” said Uncle Timothy, suddenly changing his opinion of ’Lena, whose want of money had made him sadly suspicious of her. “Yes, yes, a fine gal; fell into good hands, too, for my old woman is the greatest kind of a nuss. Want to see her, don’t you?—the lady I mean.”
“Not just yet; I would like a few moments’ conversation with your wife first,” answered Durward.
Greatly frustrated when she learned that the stylish looking gentleman wished to talk with her, Aunt Betsey rubbed her shining face with flour, and donning another cap, repaired to the sitting-room, where she commenced making excuses about herself, the house, and everything else, saying, “’twant what he was used to, she knew, but she hoped he’d try to put up with it.”
As soon as he was able to get in a word, Durward proceeded to ask her every particular concerning ’Lena’s illness, and whether she would probably recognize him should he venture into her presence,
“Bless your dear heart, no. She hain’t known a soul on us these three days. Sometimes she calls me ‘grandmother,’ and says when she’s dead I’ll know she’s innocent. ’Pears Like somebody has been slanderin’ her, for she begs and pleads with Durward, as she calls him, not to believe it. Ain’t you the one she means?”