Robert stood silent and spell-bound, at the sudden and almost terrifying change in the squire’s manner, staring at him with wonder-wide eyes, and gaping mouth.
“Robert Ellerton!” at length almost gasped the man. “And is your father’s name Robert Ellerton, too, young man?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the boy, still regarding him with surprise.
“And your mother—tell me quick,” he continued, hastily, and almost sternly.
“My mother is dead, sir. She died when I was born, and Aunt Nannie has always taken care of me.”
“Dead! Oh, Heaven, dead! Jessie dead!” muttered the old man, pressing his hand to his side, and staggering back upon the seat from which he had just arisen.
Great beads of perspiration stood upon his brow, and his hands shook as if with palsy, as he took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped them off.
“Oh, Jessie,” he wailed, “thou wert lost to me before, but I did not think that thou hadst gone so long to the regions of the unknown.
“Say, boy,” he added, and he clutched Robert almost fiercely by the arm, “was your father kind to her? Did she love him?”
“Of course he was kind to her—of course she loved him,” replied Robert, indignantly, but wondering still more at the man’s strange behavior.