Mrs. Montgomery received an account, in the morning, from Mrs. Smyth, of how good Edmund had been, and of his having become so great a favourite, not only with the good doctor, but also with the clergyman, that both had had him to dine and play with their children more than once. She also reported, with great self gratulation, the very uncommon progress he had made in learning, under her tuition; and then proceeded to relate an adventure she had met with one evening, when walking with Edmund.
“We were just returning,” said Mrs. Smyth, “from Keswick, where I had been taking a cup of tea wee a vara discreet neighbour. I carried the boy wee me, for I niver like to let a child that is in my care oot o’ my sight; it’s a thing I nivir did, and Edmund is ne trouble; tack him whar ye will, he awways behaves himsel so prettily. So just as we were walking quietly up the hill, before ye git under the shade o’ the trees, hearing voices, I happened to look ehint me, when I saw following us a dacent, vara gentleman looking man, in earnest conversation with a woman, wha from her rags, and the whiff o’ spirituous liquor I found as she passed, seemed a beggar o’ the maist disreputable kind. They keep’t looking, looking, still at little Edmund, as they spoke; and though, when I think upon it, it seems as though ony body might look at his bonny face, heaven love him! yet at the time I felt within myself parfact sure ’at they were no looking at him for the sake o’ looking at him. As they cam’ past I heard the man say, ‘Well, I suppose she’ll be satisfied, now that I have seen him myself.’ I am quite sure o’ these words, but they went on, and I could hear no more. It seemed so strange like, I thought, to follow and speak wee them, when I felt the bairn pull me by the hand; I looked round, and he was trembling aw over, and as pale as death. By the time I had speered at him what ailed him, and spoken him a word o’ comfort, the man and the woman were bathe gane, and the peur thing talt me, that yon graceless wretch was his mother.”
Much commenting followed, on the part of Mrs. Smyth, which it is unnecessary to repeat; while Mrs. Montgomery could not refrain from expressing great regret, that so favourable an opportunity had been lost for compelling the vagrant to give some account of herself, and of the child. The subject was, of course, discussed in the breakfast-room, but nothing could be made of it, except that it would seem there did exist some one who took an interest in Edmund, and who might yet claim him, when their reasons for mystery were at an end. But then, their choice of such an agent as the drunken beggar, was quite unaccountable; for, had she stolen the child, why should she be in the confidence of the decent man, who, it seems, was to satisfy the child’s friends, by being able to say that he had seen him himself. The most diligent search was made in the neighbourhood, but neither man nor woman could be heard of.
Mrs. Montgomery and Lady L. now undertook the instruction of Edmund themselves, till proper arrangements should be made respecting that point, lest he should acquire too much of good Mrs. Smyth’s accent; yet that discreet lady was far from thinking any such precaution necessary, as she prided herself on reading English with great precision, and indulging in her native idiom only in familiar conversation, for the sake, as she averred, of “Auld lang syne.”
This plan of the lessons brought Edmund much into the sitting-rooms, till, by degrees, it passed into a custom for him to remain all the morning with the ladies. Then, when particularly good, he was indulged with a sort of second dinner at the table: and he was always good, so that there was no opportunity to withdraw an indulgence once granted, and, very shortly, a chair and plate were set for him at every meal, as a matter of course; while every one grew so fond of him, that it seemed forgotten he was not a child of the family, and even the servants, of their own accord, all began to call him Master Edmund.
