'Too much so—ever too much so,' muttered Marjory below her breath.
'What say'st thou, Marjory?'
'That thou wantest a strong kind hand over thee, bein' too headstrong by half. I wish Master King was here; he'd advise thee!'
'Best not,' said Deborah, with a quick breath of pain. 'Let "Master King" attend to his own affairs. Each one has his troubles. Nurse, love me! I have need of it. O that I were a little tiny child again, when, in affright or in distress, I wrapped these arms o' thine about me; and they would seem to shelter me from all the world! O that thou wert magician, fairy, to give me my childhood back! I was happy then.'
'An' not now? What ails my bright bird? Is it Master Charlie?'
'O Marjory, don't speak of that. Look you at his picture; look there! Could those fearless eyes ever turn aside in shame or dread? Would Charlie, with all his faults, ever bring dishonour on us? Tell me that?'
'No, never.' The old face turned white, but did not flinch; Marjory believed in the honour of her wild boy, as in her own soul.
'Ah, Marjory, nurse, my darling! How I do love thee! No; never believe that any but a black liar would ever accuse Charlie Fleming of a mean low act. Wild, reckless he may be, but dishonourable, never! Ah, my love, my comfort, our true and faithful friend, we believe in Charlie Fleming!'
'Where is my boy?' asked the old woman, with troubled tears in her eyes. 'Why don't he come to Enderby? They will say strange things o' him if he don't come home. Oh, he'll break his father's heart by bein' so wild; but it's his father's blood that's in him.'
'And his mother's too, for they say our sweet mother was a mad, mad lass. Dame, who was she? What was my mother's name?'