But she was gone, fluttering away like a startled bird, before he had finished the sentence which it had cost him so much emotion to pronounce.
"She is gone," said he, despairingly. "I believe I don't understand women's minds as well as school-boys. Now, one would have thought that she would at least have waited to hear what I should say next."
[CHAPTER VI.]
THE MOUNTAIN ECHOES.
"An idle word—a lowly prayer—
A gentle 'Bless thee!' fitly spoken,
May live, and echo through the air,
As if its life could ne'er be broken."
It was days before Miles Lawson rallied. His powers were so utterly prostrated, that dull heavy sleep seemed to be the only resource of nature. They could scarcely rouse him, even to take the needful nourishment; and at such times he took no notice of any one, but drank his mother's concoctions, or Alice's less distasteful preparations, in a mere mechanical manner, without raising his dim eyes to see what hand was ministering to him. All this while he never spoke, or showed the least consciousness of what had passed; and his watchful attendants wisely refrained from forcing any exciting subject upon his over-strained nerves.
"He will mind all about it as soon as he has got strength to look back over his shoulder," said the old lady; and so she folded her hands patiently, and waited another day, and yet another, for the signs of reviving consciousness.
In the meantime, all were not idle at The Yews. Mr. Knibb had been extremely excited by the news of the discovery of the secret still on the mountainside, and had made more than one effort to set off for the lofty spot on the same evening. But Madam was wholly of another mind, and showed so much partiality for the warm stable, and such an objection to be mounted on four hard and slippery balls of snow, that the impatient old gentleman had to yield the point. Madam was quite in the right; nothing could then have been attempted with success, or even with safety.
Early on the following morning a strong party was mustered, headed by Mr. Knibb and the schoolmaster, and composed of Geordie Garthwaite, young Mat Lawson, the farm lads, and Bella Hartley's brothers. There were two carts in attendance, and these were picketed at a chosen spot, as far up the mountainside as wheels could reach. The old exciseman, leaving Madam with the rear guard, carefully covered with his own drab top-coat, labored up the steep path with marvellous spirit and speed.
Once or twice they caught sight of a small figure, apparently that of a young boy, which was hovering about at a considerable distance from them, and hiding in nooks and crevices, as if stealthily watching their proceedings.