Margaret laid her hand on the woman's arm to arrest her
attention. Their eyes met.
'Poor little fellow!' said Margaret, slowly; 'he was his
father's darling.' 'He is his father's darling,' said the woman, rising hastily,
and standing face to face with Margaret. Neither of them spoke
for a moment or two. Then Mrs. Boucher began in a low, growling
tone, gathering in wildness as she went on: He is his father's
darling, I say. Poor folk can love their childer as well as rich.
Why dunno yo' speak? Why dun yo' stare at me wi' your great
pitiful eyes? Where's John?' Weak as she was, she shook Margaret
to force out an answer. 'Oh, my God!' said she, understanding the
meaning of that tearful look. She sank hack into the chair.
Margaret took up the child and put him into her arms.
'He loved him,' said she.
'Ay,' said the woman, shaking her head, 'he loved us a'. We had
some one to love us once. It's a long time ago; but when he were
in life and with us, he did love us, he did. He loved this babby
mappen the best on us; but he loved me and I loved him, though I
was calling him five minutes agone. Are yo' sure he's dead?' said
she, trying to get up. 'If it's only that he's ill and like to
die, they may bring him round yet. I'm but an ailing creature
mysel'--I've been ailing this long time.' 'But he is dead--he is drowned!' 'Folk are brought round after they're dead-drowned. Whatten was I
thinking of, to sit still when I should be stirring mysel'? Here,
whisth thee, child--whisth thee! tak' this, tak' aught to play
wi', but dunnot cry while my heart's breaking! Oh, where is my
strength gone to? Oh, John--husband!' Margaret saved her from falling by catching her in her arms. She
sate down in the rocking chair, and held the woman upon her
knees, her head lying on Margaret's shoulder. The other children,
clustered together in affright, began to understand the mystery
of the scene; but the ideas came slowly, for their brains were
dull and languid of perception. They set up such a cry of despair
as they guessed the truth, that Margaret knew not how to bear it.
Johnny's cry was loudest of them all, though he knew not why he
cried, poor little fellow.
The mother quivered as she lay in Margaret's arms. Margaret heard
a noise at the door.
'Open it. Open it quick,' said she to the eldest child. 'It's
bolted; make no noise--be very still. Oh, papa, let them go
upstairs very softly and carefully, and perhaps she will not hear
them. She has fainted--that's all.' 'It's as well for her, poor creature,' said a woman following in
the wake of the bearers of the dead. 'But yo're not fit to hold
her. Stay, I'll run fetch a pillow and we'll let her down easy on
the floor.' This helpful neighbour was a great relief to Margaret; she was
evidently a stranger to the house, a new-comer in the district,
indeed; but she was so kind and thoughtful that Margaret felt she
was no longer needed; and that it would be better, perhaps, to
set an example of clearing the house, which was filled with idle,
if sympathising gazers.