"Thou wilt see him."
Mrs. Montgomery received an account, in the morning, from Mrs. Smyth,
of how good Edmund had been, and of his having become so great a
favourite, not only with the good doctor, but also with the clergyman,
that both had had him to dine and play with their children more than
once. She also reported, with great self gratulation, the very uncommon
progress he had made in learning, under her tuition; and then proceeded
to relate an adventure she had met with one evening, when walking with
Edmund.
"We were just returning," said Mrs. Smyth, "from Keswick, where I had
been taking a cup of tea wee a vara discreet neighbour. I carried
the boy wee me, for I niver like to let a child that is in my care
oot o' my sight; it's a thing I nivir did, and Edmund is ne trouble;
tack him whar ye will, he awways behaves himsel so prettily. So just
as we were walking quietly up the hill, before ye git under the
shade o' the trees, hearing voices, I happened to look ehint me,
when I saw following us a dacent, vara gentleman looking man, in
earnest conversation with a woman, wha from her rags, and the whiff
o' spirituous liquor I found as she passed, seemed a beggar o' the
maist disreputable kind. They keep't looking, looking, still at little
Edmund, as they spoke; and though, when I think upon it, it seems as
though ony body might look at his bonny face, heaven love him! yet at
the time I felt within myself parfact sure 'at they were no looking at
him for the sake o' looking at him. As they cam' past I heard the man
say, 'Well, I suppose she'll be satisfied, now that I have seen him
myself.' I am quite sure o' these words, but they went on, and I could
hear no more. It seemed so strange like, I thought, to follow and speak
wee them, when I felt the bairn pull me by the hand; I looked round,
and he was trembling aw over, and as pale as death. By the time I had
speered at him what ailed him, and spoken him a word o' comfort, the
man and the woman were bathe gane, and the peur thing talt me, that yon
graceless wretch was his mother."
Much commenting followed, on the part of Mrs. Smyth, which it is
unnecessary to repeat; while Mrs. Montgomery could not refrain from
expressing great regret, that so favourable an opportunity had been
lost for compelling the vagrant to give some account of herself, and of
the child. The subject was, of course, discussed in the breakfast-room,
but nothing could be made of it, except that it would seem there did
exist some one who took an interest in Edmund, and who might yet claim
him, when their reasons for mystery were at an end. But then, their
choice of such an agent as the drunken beggar, was quite unaccountable;
for, had she stolen the child, why should she be in the confidence of
the decent man, who, it seems, was to satisfy the child's friends,
by being able to say that he had seen him himself. The most diligent
search was made in the neighbourhood, but neither man nor woman could
be heard of.
Mrs. Montgomery and Lady L. now undertook the instruction of Edmund
themselves, till proper arrangements should be made respecting that
point, lest he should acquire too much of good Mrs. Smyth's accent; yet
that discreet lady was far from thinking any such precaution necessary,
as she prided herself on reading English with great precision, and
indulging in her native idiom only in familiar conversation, for the
sake, as she averred, of "Auld lang syne."
This plan of the lessons brought Edmund much into the sitting-rooms,
till, by degrees, it passed into a custom for him to remain all the
morning with the ladies. Then, when particularly good, he was indulged
with a sort of second dinner at the table: and he was always good, so
that there was no opportunity to withdraw an indulgence once granted,
and, very shortly, a chair and plate were set for him at every meal,
as a matter of course; while every one grew so fond of him, that
it seemed forgotten he was not a child of the family, and even the
servants, of their own accord, all began to call him Master Edmund.