Edgar, reclaimed her boy with many expressions of gratitude and satisfaction; and in another hour all in the house had sunk into quietude, except that sleeping in a room beneath the captain’s, I was disturbed by the regular sound of a heavy footfall pacing to and fro, till very late into the night.
We soon learned all we seemed likely to know respecting our new lodgers. Both the servants were German, and only able to express their wants by signs; but they seemed greatly attached to their mistress, who interpreted for them, and contented with their monotonous life, the bonne amusing herself with her knitting when not singing guttural ditties to her nursling, and the male attendant smoking innumerable cigars out of his bedroom window, a concession, by the bye, to my mother’s detestation of tobacco smoke.
Captain Edgar we rarely saw. From the large packets of stationery his lady purchased, we reasonably concluded that much of his time was occupied in writing. He paid no visits, received no visitors, and an occasional walk in the twilight, accompanied by his servant, was the only relaxation he indulged in. This strangely secluded life provoked the usual remarks and inquiries of gossiping neighbours, who hinted their belief that something must be wrong about these Edgars; but my mother was contented, for they were punctual in their payments, courteous if retiring, and gave little trouble, their own servants giving all the personal attendance they required.
My own predilection for the lady continued to increase, and I was never better pleased than when invited to accompany her shopping, at which times my knowledge of English weights, measures, and coinage, made me useful to the frequently bewildered foreigner.
On one of these occasions, while I tied on my bonnet, Airs. Edgar looked over the sheets of paper which I had been covering with attempts at drawing, and recognising among them several sketches of her baby boy was sufficiently pleased to proffer some instructions in what she confessed to be a favourite pursuit of her own. I gladly accepted the offered assistance, and on those evenings that Captain Edgar retired early to his own apartment, spent an hour or two watching her nimble fingers create trees and cottages for me, and tried hard to make such passable imitations as should insure the reward of her kiss, and encouraging “it is well done, my child.”
Sweeter than this, however, it was to sit by her side when the lesson was ended and hear her sing the German and Italian ballads of the best composers, in tones which I reverently thought must be like the voices of the angels in the heavenly choir. She sang in low, subdued notes, troubled with the fear of disturbing her husband, but with such tenderness, such expression, as I then thought none could equal, and certainly none that I have heard with the riper judgment of later years have surpassed.
These pleasant evenings did not occur frequently. Very often my inquiring look was met with a hasty embrace and a sorrowful “not to-night, Fanchon, not to-night; my beloved is ill, and my heart is heavy,” and I would then try to console myself with my books, listening impatiently the while, to the restless pacing to and fro, which seemed the usual accompaniment of the captain’s sufferings.
They had resided with us about three months, when I was awakened one night by a heavy fall overhead, and listening intently, heard a deep voice cry wildly for “Help.” Before I could arouse my mother, who slept soundly, the cry was repeated, and a scuffling noise ensued, which so alarmed me, that I called and shook her, until she was sufficiently awakened to hear the relation I confusedly gave of the circumstance.
But all now was quiet; so quiet that she remained incredulous; and although to pacify me, she opened the door of our room, and listened in the passage outside, no sounds from above induced her to alter her first opinion that I had been under the influence of the night-mare.
I eagerly scanned every face in the morning for confirmation of my story, but our servants had slumbered undisturbed—the Germans wore their usual stolid look—and if I fancied Mrs. Edgar paler, and more sorrowful-looking than on the previous day, she smiled on me so kindly, and spoke so composedly, that I began reluctantly to admit the possibility of having been deceived by a dream, and yet—how real it seemed!
On the following evening, however, returning from a visit, I met Captain Edgar, who was going for a walk. He courteously lifted his hat as I passed, and the movement disarranging his cloak, I saw that his left arm was in a sling, and the first time I was alone with his lady, I inquired the reason.
She looked strangely at me, and demanded why I asked? and with childish frankness I related my nocturnal terror. I could not see the effect of my tale, for she had averted her face, and was shrouding her eyes with her hand, but I could detect a trembling in the voice which asked what my mother had said. She seemed relieved to hear how lightly my fears had been treated, and drawing me to her bosom, bade me banish all remembrance of them; to rest assured that it was nothing—nothing.
“Then you, too,” I said, as my head rested on her shoulder, “you, too, think I was dreaming?”
“Dreaming,” she repeated. “Ah! yes, you were dreaming, of course, of course; what could it be but a dream, why continue to speak—to think of it?”
Then, suddenly rising, she turned from me, and clasping her hands, uttered an exclamation in her own language, of which I had only learned enough to know it contained the words, “this trusting child,” and the name of her husband, her “poor, poor Frank!”
My wondering looks, when she again came towards me, seemed to arouse her to an effort at self-control, and she fetched a large volume of engravings from the side-table for my amusement, averring that her hand was too unsteady for the usual drawing lesson. After I bade her farewell for the night, she called me back, and without lifting her eyes from the book before her, she said:
“Oh! Fanchon, I forgot—Captain Edgar has
