Here her reflections were interrupted by hearing the
galloping of Patty’s horse, as it passed by
the windows. Mrs. Crumpe tried to compose herself
again to sleep, but she could not; and in half an hour’s
time she rang the bell violently, took her purse out
of her pocket, counted out twenty bright guineas,
and desired that a horse should be saddled immediately,
and that her steward should gallop after Patty, and
offer her that whole sum in hand, if she would
return. “Begin with one guinea, and bid
on till you come up to her price,” said Mrs.
Crumpe. “Have her back again I will, if
it were only to convince myself that she is to be
had for money as well as other people.”
The steward, as he counted the gold in his hand, thought
it was a great sum to throw away for such a whim:
he had never seen his lady take the whim of giving
away ready money before; but it was in vain to remonstrate;
she was peremptory, and he obeyed.
In two hours’ time he returned, and Mrs. Crumpe
saw her gold again with extreme astonishment.
The steward said he could not prevail upon Patty even
to look at the guineas. Mrs. Crumpe now flew into
a violent passion, in which none of our readers will
probably sympathize: we shall therefore forbear
to describe it.
When Patty came within half a mile of the cottage
in which her father lived, she met Hannah, the faithful
servant, who had never deserted the family in their
misfortunes; she had been watching all the morning
on the road for the first sight of Patty, but when
she saw her, and came quite close up to her, she had
no power to speak; and Patty was so much terrified
that she could not ask her a single question.
She walked her horse a slow pace, and kept silence.
“Won’t you go on, ma’am?”
said Hannah at last, forcing herself to speak.
“Won’t you go on a bit faster? He’s
almost wild to see you.”
“He is alive then!” cried Patty.
The horse was in full gallop directly, and she was
soon at her father’s door. James and Frank
were there watching for her: they lifted her
from the horse; and feeling that she trembled so much
as to be scarcely able to stand, they would have detained
her a little while in the air; but she passed or rather
rushed into the room where her brother lay. He
took no notice of her when she came in, for he was
insensible. Fanny was supporting his head; she
held out her hand to Patty, who went on tiptoe to
the side of the bed. “Is he asleep?”
whispered she.
“Not asleep, but—He’ll come
to himself presently,” continued Fanny, “and
he will be very, very glad you are come; and so will
my father.”
“Where is my father?” said Patty; “I
don’t see him.”
Fanny pointed to the farthest end of the room, where
he was kneeling at his devotion. The shutters
being half closed, she could but just see the faint
beam which shone upon his grey hairs. He rose,
came to his daughter Patty, with an air of resigned
grief, and taking her hand between both of his, said,
“My love—we must lose him—God’s
will be done!”
