"Hoot, la.s.sie! 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 hoa.r.s.ely. "I want to ask him, I tell you, what he has done with my dear lady."

After the manner of a woman of her cla.s.s, 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, hoa.r.s.ely, 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 hoa.r.s.e 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 pa.s.sion, 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, hoa.r.s.ely:

"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 t.i.tle-- 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 x.x.xVII.

SIR MURRAY DECLARES.

"Send those people away from the door! Make her be silent; the woman's mad!" exclaimed Sir Murray excitedly, as, shrinking back, he stood, trembling and haggard, before McCray. "It's all nonsense--folly--that she has said. No; keep her here till those people have gone."

"Ye'll be quiet noo, la.s.sie, winna ye?" said McCray soothingly, as he held Jane in his arms, and then placed her in a chair, when the mad excitement that had kept her up so far seemed to desert her; and bowing down over the frightened child, she kissed and hushed it to sleep, sobbing over it hysterically, and every now and then breaking into a wail of misery. She took no further notice of her master, who gazed at her with an aspect of alarm, fearing, apparently, to speak, lest he might bring forth another such outbreak as the last. But he had no cause for fear; Jane was now tractable as a child, as McCray soon found; and going close to Sir Murray, he whispered:

"That's an ower thick door, Sir Mooray, as I fun oot when I brak' it open. They didna hear what was said by the puir thing, half daft with grief; and gin ye'll trust me, I'll see that she doesna talk ony more sic stuff."

Sir Murray did not answer,--he merely bowed his head; for there was a battle going on in his breast--a strife between dread and mortification at having to humble himself before his own servants. It was hard work to arrest the groan that struggled for exit, and when the door closed on Sandy McCray and Jane, he sank back in his chair as if stunned.

McCray felt that Sir Murray's silence gave consent, and that he was trusted. The trust, too, was not misplaced; for the Scot had obtained sufficient influence over Jane to reason her, in her calmer moments, into silence.

"Supposing, even, that you're right, la.s.sie, ye ken that the puir bodie we've lost wadna have wished ye to bring Sir Mooray to the gallows. But dinna ye fash yourself aboot it; it will all reet itself in time. Ye're sure o' naething, and ye've got your trust in hand; sae mind it weel, and leave the rest to me."

Jane responded to this advice by weeping bitterly over the child, pressing it convulsively to her breast; and in that condition, the next morning, McCray left her, and sought the baronet, to find that he had never left the library.

"The puir la.s.sie was half daft last neet, Sir Mooray; but it's a' owre noo, and she's tending the bairn."

"I wanted you, McCray!" exclaimed Sir Murray, the coming of the staunch servitor seeming to rouse him into life. "I am going to search in one direction: you arrange the men in parties, and leave no place unscoured.

Give orders, too, that the great nets be brought out, and let the lake be dragged."

He shuddered as he spoke these last words, and the gardener turned to go.

"What time is it now?" inquired Sir Murray.

"Just seven of the clock, Sir Mooray," was the reply; and then McCray took his departure, heedless of the supercilious looks bestowed upon him by one of the footmen, who could not understand what Sir Murray could be thinking about to have that great coa.r.s.e gardener in the house, and treat him as an equal.

But Sir Murray had placed matters in the right hands. Before half an hour had elapsed parties were organised, consisting of the servants and labourers from the farm close at hand; and a regular search was inst.i.tuted, the land being methodically gone over--field and forest, bush and ditch. The lake was dragged in every direction, and hour after hour spent, but always with the same result--failure.

There were not wanting those who a.s.serted that my lady must have wandered right away, and the bounds of the search were extended, but still in vain; and at mid-day the parties rested for refreshment, and to determine upon some new plan of action.

Meanwhile, a horse had been brought to the door; and mounting, Sir Murray rode hastily over to the Hall, where, for form's sake, he asked to see Captain Norton, and upon being told of his absence, requested to be shown in to Mrs Norton.

She met him without rising, but sat trembling visibly, as she drew her boy closer to her; for a sense of dread seemed to rob her of the power to move. But a few hours since, and it had been declared to her that this man had tried to poison her cousin, and now he was here. She could not speak, but motioned him to a chair, trying to overcome her weakness, and to meet with fort.i.tude the new misfortune she felt certain was impending.

Sir Murray saw her motion, but he remained standing; and for full five minutes he watched her, with a look mingled of curiosity and compa.s.sion.

"Mrs Norton," he said at last, "I have come to inflict pain, but I cannot help it. You must judge me leniently when I am gone."

Ada bowed, and gazed at him with starting eyes.

"One of the Castle servants was here the day before yesterday. Did you see her?"

"I did," said Ada, huskily.

"She brought a note, did she not, from Lady Gernon?"

"No, Sir Murray."

"A message?"

"No."

"She saw Captain Norton?"

"My husband was from home, Sir Murray Gernon."

"She left a message for him?"

"No."