McCray stood watching his master with attentive eye, as, apparently
ignorant of his presence, the baronet--drenched as he was with rain and
perspiration--threw himself into a chair, and covered his face with his
hands.
The gardener stood on one leg, then on the other, then leaned on a
chair-back, putting himself into every posture that would give him a
little ease, for he was well-nigh exhausted. But no notice took Sir
Murray. He was apparently buried in himself; and, at last, unable to
draw his attention by coughing and shuffling about, Sandy McCray
prepared to speak.
"He's greeting aboot her, puir laddie," he muttered to himself; "but, a'
the same, he might ha' brought out the whuskee. We're mair free with
the wee drappie up north." Then, aloud: "Hoot, then, Sir Mooray, it's a
bad habit to sit in wet clouts. Hadna ye better tak' just a wet o' some
kind o' sperrits? I think a little whuskee wad do ye nae hairm."
"You here still?" exclaimed Sir Murray; and then, angrily, as a hand was
laid upon the handle of the door: "Who's that? I am engaged."
But the door opened, and, to Sandy McCray's astonishment, Jane crept in,
white as a sheet, as if from some great horror; but, all the same,
carrying tenderly, as she hushed it to sleep, the little child that,
after five years, had been born to Sir Murray.
"Hoot, lassie! and what do ye do here?"
"What do I do?" exclaimed Jane, fiercely, her half-frightened aspect
giving place to a look of rage. "I have come to ask that man what he
has done with my dear lady!"
"Hoot, lassie! do ye ken it's the laird?" exclaimed the alarmed
gardener; and then, stooping over her, he put his face close to hers,
and muttered to himself: "There isna a smell of the stuff on her mooth,
or I'd say she'd been at the whuskee."
"Stand aside, McCray!" she said hoarsely. "I want to ask him, I tell
you, what he has done with my dear lady."
After the manner of a woman of her class, she raised her voice as she
spoke; when, in alarm, the Scot darted to and closed the door, turning
the little inside bolt, and then hurrying back to his betrothed's side;
for there was something threatening in the baronet's looks, as he rose
from his chair, glaring the while at his wife's maid.
"Stand back, McCray!" cried Jane, hoarsely, as he laid his hand upon her
arm. "I've been silent all these months, but I'll speak now. Let him
strike me if he dares, but he dare not! See here!" she cried, "I've
brought your little one down to you, to see if it will do anything
towards melting your hard, proud, cruel heart, and making you tell the
truth! Tell me now, and at once, what you have done with my dear lady!"
"Take her away, and this instant!" hissed Sir Murray. "The woman's
mad!"
"Mad! No, I am not mad! Keep back, McCray; I won't go! Touch me
again, and I'll scream so as to alarm the house; and then all the
servants shall hear what I mean to say to you alone. I'm not afraid, I
tell you, and I will be answered. But, oh, Sir Murray!" she cried,
softening for a moment, "tell me where the poor thing is! What have you
done with her?"
"You Scotch wolf!" exclaimed Sir Murray, in a rage, to the gardener,
"why do you not take the mad fool from my sight?"
McCray placed his arm round Jane, and tried to lead her off; but she
struggled from him, and uttered a wild, piercing scream that made him
start aside, as if the shrill sound had pierced him like a sword.
"I will not go!" cried the girl, stamping with fury. "I will know
first! Do you think I am to be cheated and blinded by all this
pretended hunting to find my poor darling, ill-used lady? Why did you
come, with your pride and your money, to her happy home, and take her
away to be your miserable wife? Why did you ever come near the poor,
sweet innocent? And then, after all her suffering, to insult her with
your cruel, base suspicions, so unmanly--so false!"
"Curse the woman! Am I to strike her in the mouth?" raged Sir Murray,
in a hoarse whisper; for there were voices to be heard outside--
evidently those of the servants, alarmed by the wild shriek, and once
the door was softly tried.
"Na--na, Sir Mooray!" said McCray; "nae blows to a woman. The puir
thing's daft wi' grief and passion, and greeting after her lady; but
she'll be better therectly. Whush, then, Jenny, let's gang our gait,
and leave the laird to himsel'."
"If you touch me again, McCray, I'll alarm the house!" cried Jane; and
the great Scot fell back once more, as going closer to Sir Murray
Gernon, she continued, hoarsely:
"You've been making your plans for long enough, and this is a part of
them! It will blind some people, but it won't me. I've been watching,
as well as you; for my heart bled to see the poor, ill-used, neglected,
tortured thing pining away, day after day! But Heaven will judge you
for this, and bring down punishment upon you! She knew it was coming:
she shuddered, and talked of dying, and begged of me to be a mother to
her poor little one, and I swore I would; and I will, poor humble
servant as I am! But right makes me strong, while wrong makes you weak
and a coward, so that you are afraid, and obliged to listen to me. I'm
not afraid of your fierce looks, for it shall all out, if I go to the
magistrates myself. Hunting round, looking for her, you false, cruel
traitor! Do you think you could deceive me? You listened for some
purpose to the cruel lies of that wretch Gurdon, who ought to have had
his tongue cut out; and now that you have planned and plotted, you think
we are all cheated, but you are wrong. I don't care who hears me, I
will speak, and I say it now. Look at him, McCray: you are a bold,
honest man, before whom he cowers--this great baronet, with his title--
like a beaten hound! I tell you that for weeks past he has been trying
to poison--"
With an exclamation of rage Sir Murray rushed at her; but she never
flinched.
"To poison my dear lady!" exclaimed Jane.
"Hush--hush! for Heaven's sake, hush, woman!" cried Sir Murray; and in
an instant he had placed his hand over her mouth.
But it was only for an instant; McCray had dragged him from her, as,
reeling as she spoke, Jane gasped:
"Keep him from me; his hands are yet red! I tell you, as I will tell
the world, if I live, my lady is not lost, but murdered!"
Book 1, Chapter XXXVII.