A FAINT sound of crying found its way to my ears from the lower end of
the room, and reminded me that the rector and his wife had been present
among us. Feeble Mrs. Finch was lying back in her chair, weeping and
wailing over what had happened. Her husband, with the baby in his arms,
was trying to compose her. I ought perhaps to have offered my help--but,
I own, poor Mrs. Finch's distress produced only a passing impression on
me. My whole heart was with another person. I forgot the rector and his
wife, and went back to Oscar.
This time he moved--he lifted his head when he saw me. Shall I ever
forget the silent misery in that face, the dull dreadful stare in those
tearless eyes?
I took his hand--I felt for the poor disfigured, rejected man as his
mother might have felt for him--I gave him a mother's kiss. "Be
comforted, Oscar," I said. "Trust me to set this right."
He drew a long trembling breath, and pressed my hand gratefully. I
attempted to speak to him again--he stopped me by looking suddenly
towards the door.
"Is Nugent outside?" he asked in a whisper.
I went into the corridor. It was empty. I looked into Lucilla's room. She
and Grosse and the nurse were the only persons in it. I beckoned to
Zillah to come out and speak to me. I asked for Nugent. He had left
Lucilla abruptly at the bed-room door--he was out of the house. I
inquired if it was known in what direction he had gone. Zillah had seen
him in the field at the end of the garden, walking away rapidly, with his
back to the village, and his face to the hills.
"Nugent has gone," I said, returning to Oscar.
"Add to your kindness to me," he answered. "Let _me_ go too."
A quick fear crossed my mind, that he might be bent on following his
brother.
"Wait a little," I said, "and rest here."
He shook his head.
"I must be by myself," he said. After considering a little, he added a
question. "Has Nugent gone to Browndown?"
"No. Nugent has been seen walking towards the hills."