Everything that could be done in the way of searching was energetically
carried out. The lake, every pond, and even many of the water-holes
upon the moor were dragged; but no tidings--no trace of Lady Gernon was
obtained. McCray had seen her walk across the lawn and disappear behind
some shrubs, as he was at work, and that seemed to be the last trace.
No one could be found who had seen her pass in any direction; and the
topic of conversation in Merland village and the neighbourhood began to
change its tone, as people learned how Sir Murray had, for a short time,
made inquiries respecting the route taken by Captain Norton, pursuing
him, too, for some distance, until he seemed to have disappeared, the
information he obtained being of a very vague nature.
But it was very plain to those who took an interest in the affair that
Sir Murray Gernon's endeavours to trace his lady were made in a
half-hearted manner. The search in the neighbourhood of the Castle was
strenuous enough, but that was due to the exertions of McCray; and when,
at the end of a week, people learned that Sir Murray had shut himself
up, after discharging half the servants with liberal wages, they raised
their eyebrows, and shook their heads, and wondered whether Captain
Norton would ever show himself again at the Hall.
As for Jane, she was nearly having a rupture with McCray, upon his
giving in his adhesion to the popular feeling; but the matter blew over,
and whatever might be her thoughts, she said no more, waiting in
expectation of the battle that she felt to be in store for her when,
rousing himself once more, Sir Murray should recall her words, and wish
to discharge her.
But the day she dreaded did not come; while, to the great disgust of the
servants, McCray seemed to be more and more in the confidence of Sir
Murray.
"Why don't he keep to his `gairden,' as he calls it?" said the footman,
indignantly; for he felt himself much ill-used, since he had to wear his
livery, eat his food, and do nothing at all in return, for the baronet's
simple meals were taken into his room by McCray. Williams, the other
footman--Sir Murray's spy, as Jane indignantly called him--had been
amongst the servants first discharged.
"The poor gairden's going to rack and ruin, lassie," said McCray; "and
just as I was going to make such improvements and alterations! But Sir
Mooray says I'm not to let either of the ither sairvants go to him; and
I believe he frightened that loon in the breeches, because he would take
in the letters."
"But he sha'n't frighten me," said Jane, firmly. "I'll never leave the
child, come what may."
"Dinna fash yersel', darling," said McCray, tenderly. "I've got the
wages and orders of six more that are to be sent away at once, but ye're
nae one of them. Sir Mooray winna discharge ye till he packs me off."
"Indeed!" said Jane. "And how do you know?"
"Why, we've been talking aboot ye, lassie; and Sir Mooray said he had
made up his mind to go abroad again, and asked me if I'd gang wi' him;
and though it cut me to the heart to leave my fruit and flowers, lassie,
I thocht I'd see new sorts in the far countree, and I said I'd gang."
"It didn't fret you, then, to think of leaving me?" said Jane, bitterly.
"Hoot, lassie! and who's aboot to gang and leave ye?" exclaimed McCray.
"Sir Mooray said I was to see and get a good nurse to tak' charge of the
bairn--one as would go abroad; and I telled him he couldna do better
than keep ye, when I thocht he was going to fly at me. But I telled
him, quite still like, that we'd promised to marry, and that if he didna
tak' ye, lassie, he wadna tak' me; and that seemed to make him mad for a
bit, till I telled him that ye lo'ed weel the bairn, and that ye were a
gude girl at heart. But he wadna listen."
"Was it to be a good place, Alexander?" said Jane.
"Ay, lassie; I was to have a fair bit o' siller."
"Then you mustn't give it up for me."
"I didna mean to, lassie," said McCray, coolly.
Jane was piqued, and said nothing.
"There, lassie, I winna beat aboot the bush any more. It was settled at
last that we twain are to gang thegither; and I agreed for both, and Sir
Mooray starts next week for the Lake Como."
"And like you!" said Jane, with asperity. "How could you know that I'd
go?"
"Why, didn't I ken that ye'd gang for my sake?" said McCray.
"No, indeed!" exclaimed Jane.
"That's just what I thocht," said McCray, with a twinkle in his eye;
"but I was quite sure ye would on account of the bairn."
Jane smiled, in spite of herself, as McCray's arm was passed round her:
but her eyes filled with tears directly after, as she placed the child
upon a chair, and then went down upon her knees before it, kissing it
again and again.
"It was good, and kind, and thoughtful of you, Alexander," she said,
turning to the gardener; "and I know you've been having a hard battle
for me."
"Weel, lassie, he did want a deal o' pruning, certainly," said McCray.
"But I'm very--very grateful!" sobbed Jane, "for the poor child seems
all one has to live for now!"
"All, lassie?" said McCray, dryly.
"Well, no; not all," said Jane. "But I'm not worthy of you, and I never
ought to have made you the promise I did, for I can't love you as much
as you ought to be loved."
"Hoot, lassie!" cried McCray, kneeling by her side, and drawing her to
him, "gin ye try like that, I'm quite satisfied, for what more need a
man wush for, than for his couthie wee bodie to try and love him with
all her heart?"
Book 1, Chapter XXXIX.