Here Clare stepped forward, feeling that she must not permit herself to be committed. “I am sure Sarah will do her very best to make you comfortable,” she said, with great distinctness, not hurrying over her words, as Edgar did—and not disposed to permit any vague large promises to be made in her name. She was not particularly anxious about the stranger’s comfort; but Edgar was hasty, and would always have his way.
“I am much obliged to ye both,” said the newcomer, her strong yet soft Scotch voice, with its broad vowels, sounding large and ample, like her person. She gave but one glance at Clare, but her eyes dwelt upon Edgar with curious interest and eagerness. No one else in the place seemed to attract her as he did. She returned the touch of his hand with a vigorous clasp, which startled even him. “I hear ye’re but late come hame,” she said, in a deep melodious tone, lingering upon the words.
“Yes,” said Edgar, somewhat surprised by her air of interest. “I am almost as much a stranger here as you are. Perfitt tells me you have come from the hills. I hope Arden will agree with the little girl.”
“Is there some one ill?” said Clare.
“My granddaughter,” said the stranger, “but no just a little girl—little enough, poor thing—the weakliest I ever trained; but she’s been seventeen years in this world—a weary world to her. Her life is a thread. I cannot tell where she got her weakness from—no from my side.”
“Na; not from your side,” echoed Perfitt, who had been standing behind. “But Mr. Arden has other things ado than listen to our clavers about our family. I’ll go with you, with his leave, up the stair.”
“Has Dr. Somers been to see her?” said Clare. “If she is Mr Perfitt’s relation, perhaps we could be of some use; some jelly perhaps, or fruit——”
“I am much obliged to the young lady, but I’ll not trouble anybody,” was the answer. “Thank ye all. If I might ask the liberty, when Jeanie is able, of a walk about your park——”
She had turned to Edgar again, upon whom her eyes dwelt with growing interest. Even Mr. Fielding thought it strange. “If she wants anything, surely I am the fit person to help her,” Clare could not help saying within herself. But it was Edgar to whom the stranger turned. He, too, was a little surprised by her look. “The park is open to everybody” he said; “that is no favour. But if you would like to go through the gardens and the private grounds—or even the house—Perfitt, you can arrange all that. And perhaps you might speak to the gardener, Clare?”
“Whatever you wish, Edgar,” said his sister, turning away. She was displeased. It was she who ought naturally to have been appealed to, and she was left out. But the new-comer evidently was honestly oblivious of Clare’s very presence. She had no intention of disrespect to the young lady, or of neglecting her claims; but she forgot her simply, being fascinated by her brother. It was him whom she thanked with concise and reserved words, but a certain strange fulness of tone and expression. And then she made the party a little bow, which took in the whole, and turned and led the way up the narrow cottage stair—Perfitt following her—leaving them all considerably puzzled, and more moved than Clare would have allowed to be possible. “If this is your Scotchwoman,” she said, turning to the Rector, “I don’t wonder you found her original;” and Clare went hastily out of the cottage, without a word to Sarah, followed by the gentlemen, who did not know what to say.