“There can’t be anything wrong in saying I am fond of Edgar. No; I am sure there can’t be anything wrong,” said Miss Somers: “he is the dearest fellow! We were brought up so very strict, I always feel a little difficulty, you know, in saying, about gentlemen—— But then at my age, and so helpless as I am—— I have him up to my room to see me, you know, and I can’t think there is any harm, though I would not for the world do anything that was considered fast, or that would make any talk. Why, I have known him from a baby—or rather I ought to have known him. The Doctor was not here then. When one thinks of such a while ago, you know, everything was so very different. I was going to balls and parties and things, like other young people. Five and twenty years ago!—there was a gentleman that had a post out in India somewhere—but it never came to anything. How strange it would have been, supposing I had been all these five and twenty years in India! I wonder if I should have been helpless as I am now?—but probably it would have been the liver—it would have been sure to have been the liver. Poor dear Edgar, he never was like the Ardens. That was why they were so unkind.”
“Unkind!” said Mrs. Murray, with a sudden start.
“Oh, you must not say anything of it now,” said the invalid, frightened. “He is the Squire, and there is no harm done. The old Squire was not nice; he was that sort of hard-hearted man—and poor dear Edgar was never like an Arden. My brother has his own ways of thinking, you know, and takes things into his head; and he thinks he understands: he thinks it was something about Mrs. Arden. But that is all the greatest wickedness and folly. I knew her, and I can say—— He was so hard-hearted—not the least like a father—and that made him think, you know——”
Mrs. Murray, who was not used to Miss Somers, and could not unravel the maze, or make out which him was the Squire and which the Doctor, gazed at her with wondering eyes. She was almost as much moved as Edgar had been. Her cheeks grew red, her glance eager. “I have no right to be asking questions,” she said, “but there’s a cousin of mine here that has long been in their service, and I cannot but take an interest in the family. Thomas Perfitt has told us a’ about the Ardens at home. If I was not presuming, I would like to know about Mr. Edgar. There’s something in his kind eyes that goes to the heart of the poor. I’m a stranger; but if it’s no presuming——”
“Yes; I suppose you are a stranger,” said Miss Somers, who was too glad to have any one to talk to. “But I have heard so much about you, I can’t think—— Oh, dear, no, you are not presuming. Everybody knows about the Ardens; they were always a very proud sort of stiff people. The old Squire was married when I was a young lady, you know, and cared for a little attention and to be taken notice of; though I am sure why I should talk of myself! That is long past—ever so long past; and his wife was so nice and so sweet. If she had been a great lady I am sure I should never have loved her so—— And the baby—but somehow no one ever thought of the baby—not even his mamma. She had always to be watching her husband’s looks, poor thing. On the whole, I am not sure that one is not happier when one does not marry. The things I have seen! Not daring to call their souls their own; and then looking down upon you, as if you were not far, far—— But poor dear Edgar never was petted like Clare. One never saw him when he was a child; and I do believe his poor dear papa hated him after—— I ought not to talk like this, I know. But he has come out of it all like—like—— Oh, he is the dearest fellow! And to be sure, he is the Squire, and no one can harm him now.”
“Maybe the servants should not hear,” said Mrs. Murray, whose face was glowing with a deep colour. The red was not natural to her, and seemed to burn into her very eyes. And she did not look at Miss Somers, but stood anxiously fingering the apron of the little carriage. John and Mercy were both close by—perhaps out of hearing, but no more.
“Oh, my dear woman, the servants know all about it,” said Miss Somers. “They talk more about it than we do; that is always the way with them. I might give a hint, you know; but they speak plain. No; he was not happy when he was a boy; he went wandering all about and about——”
“But that was for his education,” said the anxious inquirer, whose interest in the question did not astonish Miss Somers. To her it seemed only natural that the Ardens should be prominent in everybody’s horizon. She shook her head with such a continuous shake, that Mercy was tempted to interfere.
“You’ll have the headache, Miss, if you don’t mind,” said Mercy, coming forward; “and me and John both thinks that it ain’t what the Doctor would like, to see you a-sitting here.”
“It’s only for a minute,” said the invalid, humbly, “I want a little breath, after being so long shut up. You may think what it would be if you were shut up for two years. Would you tell John to go and gather me some may, there’s a dear good creature? I am so interested in these nice people; and my brother says—— Some may, please, John; not the brown branches that are going off—— I think I saw some there. Mercy, you have such good eyes, go and show him, please. There, now they are gone, one can talk. Old servants are a great blessing, though sometimes—— But it is all their interest in one, you know. His education was the excuse. I remember when I was young, Mary Thorpe—— They said it was to learn Italian; but if that young man had not been so poor—— It is such a strange, strange world! If people were to think less of money, don’t you think it would be happier, especially for young girls? I hope it is not anything of that kind with your poor little grandchild; but then she is so young——”