The girl rose slowly from the ground, after the two men had disappeared, and, still sobbing heavily, made her way towards the door which led to the upper part of the house. But her mother, brought to herself by the movement, advanced rapidly, and caught her in her arms.
“Child,” she said, in a sort of gasp—“this ain’t no time for callin’ folks names, or talkin’ about rights and wrongs. Quick—what’s i’ the wind? I see Master Dandy a lookin’ in at that winder—straight at me; what’s i’ the wind, child—and w’ere have they gone?”
For some moments, Clara Siggs could not speak; her sobs seemed to shake her from head to foot. But, after a little time, she grew more calm, and told what she knew.
“I saw him—looking in at the window; he beckoned to me. Then, when I slipped out to him, I was frightened at first, because he seemed so worn-looking, and so strange. But he kept saying, again and again, that he wanted to see you—that he could not go away, without seeing you. And, in spite of all they have said, I could not believe, somehow, when I looked into his eyes, that he could have done such a cruel and wicked deed as that.” Here her sobs broke out afresh, so that Betty had much ado to comfort her.
“There, there—don’t cry, child,” she said. “Crying never mended any think yet. Wot else did ’e say?”
“He asked who the man was with us; and, when I told him, he laughed, and said he would give him a run for his money, anyway.”
“Spoke like a Chater—that was!” cried Betty, with considerable pride. “Then wot ’appened?”
“Master Dandy said that as it wouldn’t be safe to see you, he would make across the fields, so as to get clear of Bamberton, and walk on the way to London. Then, as I was crying, he put his arm round my shoulders—indeed, indeed, there was no shame in it, mother dear—and told me not to mind, for he would clear himself yet. And just at that moment, I heard a rustling in the hedge, and Harry jumped through.”
Toby Siggs looked long at his daughter; slowly shook his head; and delivered himself of this piece of wisdom. “The good Lord, with the willin’ ’elp of yer mother, made ye fair-lookin’ an’ put bright eyes into your face; but neither the good Lord nor your mother meant as ’ow they should be a snare, or in any way deludin’. One lad is good enough for the best o’ gels. Go to bed—an’ think well on it!”
Clara, still sobbing, took her way slowly upstairs. For a long time, Toby Siggs and his wife sat in whispered conversation; Toby saying but little, but probably thinking the more. The shadow of that crime in the wood seemed to have fallen even on that quiet household; Betty Siggs watched the dying fire; and her mind travelled back, through the years to the farm in Australia, on the edge of the Bush, and to the bright-faced lad that cruel Bush had swallowed up, and snatched from her. Old Toby Siggs knew the story; for, when first he had met her, she had had to account for the presence of the child; but Toby was a silent man, and the lost boy was as far back in the mists of the dead years, as in the mists of Toby’s brain.