"And to think that you was married, and I never knowed a word about it! Lor' sakes! an' to be killed, too, and come to life at the nick o' time!" said Mrs. Tom, with another hug, and a laugh, and a fresh burst of tears. "Carl, you great, lazy, idle vagabones, come over here and see Christie, 'stead o' standing there, shiftin' from one foot to another, like you had got into a nest o' young wipers."
Thus adjured, in the sharp, peremptory tone that reminded Christie of other days, Carl advanced and pressed his lips to Christie's cheek as gingerly as though he were afraid of burning himself. Evidently relieved when this was over, he edged off toward the door, and, at the invitation of Sibyl, took a seat, and sat down on the extreme edge of the chair.
And then, when Mrs. Tom had hugged and kissed Christie to her heart's content, and laughed and cried herself into something like composure, her first demand was to Lear all that had happened "sence that there awful night."
And Sibyl, fearing to further agitate Christie, who had now fallen back, completely exhausted, on her pillow, led the bustling little woman over to the window, and seating herself near her, related all.
Mrs. Tom listened with many "lor' sakes'!" and "gracious me's!" and "oh's!" and "ah, Lord's!" until Sibyl began relating the maniac's story. As she proceeded, Mrs. Tom grew violently agitated; and before she could reach the end, the old lady had jumped up, and, pale and trembling, bent over Christie.
"Christie, look here," she said, excitedly, "that there crazy woman had a little child, had she, the time she was walled up in that room?"
"Yes," replied Christie, wonderingly.
"That there little child was left in Campbell's Lodge, with Mark Campbell, was it?" continued Mrs. Tom, more and more agitated.
"Yes, I believe so. Why, Aunt Tom, what's the matter?"
"And they never could find out what became of it after, could they?" again asked Mrs. Tom, sinking into a chair.