But whether that could have been done or not was never put to the test. As he finished speaking, Wilkins came to the door hastily. “I beg your pardon, sir,” he said, “but some folks is come from the village, asking if one Mrs. Murray is here. I beg your pardon, I’m sure, for interrupting——”
The old Scotchwoman rose up suddenly in the midst of them with a cry of fear, which she no longer attempted to restrain.
“Is it my Jeanie?” she exclaimed. “Oh, good Lord, good Lord, I’m paying dear, dear!”
“I must go with her,” said Edgar, in his excitement. Something in his face, some strange likeness never perceived before, startled both his companions. Arthur Arden rose too. He did not care about Jeanie. He had forgotten, in this greater excitement, that he was guilty in regard to the girl. All he thought of was to follow this new clue—to see them together—to watch the new resemblance he had found out in Edgar’s face.
CHAPTER XX.
Jeanie was lying propped up on pillows, struggling for breath. Her face, which had always been like that of an angel, was more visionary, more celestial than ever; the golden hair, which had always been so carefully braided, hung about her head like a halo. It was hair which fell in soft, even tresses, not standing on end or struggling into rebellious curls: everything about her was soft, harmonious, submissive. Her eyes were full of light, enlarged, with that fatal breadth and fulness which generally has but one meaning. A little flush of fever on her cheeks kept up the appearance of health. Her pretty lips were parted with the panting, struggling breath. Dr. Somers stood at her bedside, looking very grave. Sally Timms sat crying in a corner. Mrs. Hesketh came to the door to meet the poor grandmother, with her apron at her eyes. “She was took bad half-an-hour after you went—just about when you’d have got to the Hall; and called and called till it made you sick to hear—‘Granny! granny! granny!’—never another word. Oh, I’m thankful, Missis, as you’ve come in time.”
“Half-an-hour after I left!” said Mrs. Murray; “when I was denying the truth. Oh, me that thought to hide it from the Lord!—me that thought she was better, and He couldna go back! And the angel cried upon me, Granny! granny! Lad, do you hear that!—I have lost my Jeanie for you!”
She put her hand upon Edgar’s shoulder as she spoke. Her face was white and ghastly with her despair. She thrust him from her, almost with violence. “Oh, let me never see you more! Oh, let me never see you more! I have lost my Jeanie for you!”
“Is there no hope?” said Edgar, clutching Dr. Somers by the arm. He had given way to the mother, to let her approach the bed, and now stood behind with a face so grave and grieved that any answer seemed unnecessary. He shook his head; and then, after a little interval, spoke.
“I know no reason why this should have come on. Some agitation which I cannot explain. There is no hope, unless it can be calmed somehow. The grandmother may do it, or perhaps——”