“Ay, your cousin,” she said anxiously. “It’s strange that I never kent you had a cousin. Nobody ever told me that—— But mind, mind what I say. Whatever happens, you’ll no forget this. He carried her here in his arms. He forgot all the rest, all the rest. And you’ll no forget it to him. That’s my injunction upon you, whatever anybody may say.”
“This is very strange,” Edgar said, in spite of himself. Who was she, that she should lay injunctions upon him—should bid him do this or that? And then he thought to himself that her head too must be a little turned. So startling an event probably had confused her, as Jeanie had been confused by a sudden shock. He looked at her very sympathetically, and pressed the hands that held his. “Tell me first how Jeanie is—poor little Jeanie; that is by far the most important now.”
“It’s no the most important,” said the old woman almost obstinately. “I ken both sides, and you ken but little—very, very little. But whatever you do or say, you’ll no forget him for this—promise me that you’ll never forget.”
“That is easy enough to promise,” said Edgar; “but he was to blame, for it was he who put her in the carriage. I think he was to blame. And what am I to reward him for?—for carrying the poor child home?”
“Yes, for carrying her home,” said Mrs. Murray, “in his arms, when the other was waiting that was more to him than Jeanie. You’ll no please me, nor do your duty, if you do not mind this good deed. They say he’s no a good man; but the poor have many a temptation that never comes near the rich; and if he had been in your place at Arden and you in his—or even——”
“My dear, kind woman,” said Edgar, trying with a pressure of her hands to recall her to herself, “don’t trouble yourself about Arthur or me. You are excited with all that has happened. Think of Jeanie. Don’t take any trouble about us——”
“Eh, if I could help troubling!” she said, loosing her hands from his. And then the look of excitement slowly faded out of her face. “I am bidding you bear my burdens,” she said, with a deep sigh; “as if the innocent could bear the load of the guilty, or make amends—— You must not mind what I say. I’ve been a solitary woman, and whiles I put things into words that are meant for nobody’s ear. You were asking about Jeanie. She is real ill—in a kind of faint—but if she is kept quiet, the doctor says she may come round. I think she will come round, for my part. She is delicate, but there is life in her: me and mine have all so much life.” When she said these words Mrs. Murray fixed her eyes upon Edgar keenly and surveyed him, as if trying to fathom his constitution and powers. “I cannot tell for you,” she said, with a sudden pause. He smiled, but he was grieved, thinking sadly that her brain was affected, as Jeanie’s had been. What was to become of the hapless pair if the mother’s brain was gone as well as the child’s. The thought filled him with infinite pity, so great as almost to bring tears to his eyes.
“You must try and compose yourself,” he said. “I will send Perfitt to see that you have everything you want, and perhaps when she is a little better she may be removed to your own rooms. This is not a comfortable cottage, I fear. But you must compose yourself, and not allow yourself to be worried one way or another. You may be quite sure I will stand by you, and take care of you as much as I can—you who have been so kind to everybody, so good——”
“Oh no, no, no good!” she cried, “not good. I think night and day, but I cannot see what to do; and when a wronged man heaps coals of fire on your head—— Oh, you’re kind, kind; and I’m no ungrateful, though I may look it. And it is not excitement, as you say, that makes me speak. There’s many a thing of which a young lad like you is ignorant. You’ll mind this to his credit if ever you can do him a good turn——”
“Yes, yes,” said Edgar impatiently; and then he added, “Think of Jeanie. Arthur Arden is very well qualified to take care of himself.”