THE BOOKBINDER AND HIS PUPIL.
It was the middle of the day before they were missed.
Their absence caused for a time no commotion; the
servants said nurse must have taken the child for
his usual walk. But when the nurse from London
came, and, after renewed search and inquiry, nothing
was heard of them, their disappearance could no longer
be kept from lady Ann. She sent to inform her
husband.
Sir Wilton asked a question or two of her messenger,
said the thing must be seen to, finished his cigar,
threw the stump in the fire, and went to his wife;
when at once they began to discuss, not the steps to
be taken for the recovery of the child, but the woman’s
motive for stealing him. The lady insisted it
was revenge for having been turned away, and that
she would, as soon as she reached a suitable place,
put an end to his life: she had seen murder in
her eyes! The father opined there was no such
danger: he remembered, though he did not mention
it, the peculiarity of the woman’s behaviour
when first he saw her. There was no limit, he
said, to the unnatural fancies of women; some were
disgustingly fond of children, even other women’s
children. Plain as the infant was, he did not
doubt she had taken a fancy to him, and therefore declined
to part with him. The element of revenge might,
he allowed, have a share in the deed; but that would
be satisfied with leaving them in doubt of his fate.
For his part, he made her welcome to him! To this
lady Ann gave no answer: she was not easily shocked,
and could, without consternation, have regarded his
disappearance as final. But something must at
least appear to be done! Unpleasant things might
be said, and uncertainty was full of annoyance!
“You must be careful, sir Wilton,” she
remarked. “Nobody thinks you believe the
child your own.”
Sir Wilton laughed.
“I never had a doubt on the subject. I
wish I had: he’s not to my credit.
If we never hear of him again, the better for the next!”
“That is true!” rejoined lady Ann.
“But what if, after we had forgotten all about
him, he were to turn up again?”
“That would be unpleasant—and is
indeed a reason why we should look for him. Better
find him than live in doubt! Besides, the world
would be uncharitable enough to hint that you had made
away with him: it’s what ought to have
been done when first he appeared. I give you
my word, Ann, he was a positive monster! The object
was actually web-footed!—web-footed like
any frog!”
“You must let the police know,” said the
lady.
“That the child is web-footed? No, I think
not!” yawned sir Wilton.
He got up, went out, and ordered a groom to ride hard
to the village—as hard as he could go—and
let the police understand what had occurred.
Within the hour a constable appeared, come to inquire
when last the fugitives were seen, and what they wore—the
answer to which latter question set the police looking
for persons very different in appearance from Jane
and her nursling. Nothing was heard of them, and
the inquiry, never prosecuted with any vigour, was
by degrees dropped entirely.
