“I scarcely remember him; but I am sure I should find him,” cried Lydia. “You will say that is nonsense; but then I have been my mother’s only companion all these years, and she will never be happy till she has seen Harry again. She has not had a very happy life; perhaps she has not always understood--and then no one has understood _her_. I must, I must get her some happiness before she dies!”
There was a glow of tender enthusiasm about the girl which touched her companion deeply. “I think,” he said, “she is happy in you. It would be strange if she were not,” he added, half under his breath.
This brought a wave of colour over Lydia’s face. “She is a little more happy in me; but she will not be really happy till she sees Harry.”
“Don’t say so, Mr. Brotherton, please! Don’t think so even. Do you imagine if he had been ---- that mother would not know? If I could only go abroad I know I should find him. Here is old Isaac Oliver, old Uncle Henry’s man. He will let you see the place; and if he is cross you will not mind? He has been here so long that he thinks it is his own.”
They were walking along the edge of a field of corn, on a little footpath so narrow that here and there they had to walk singly. The wind, which swept the tall rustling crop in waves like breath coming and going, blew the pale yellow heads against them as they went along in pleasant contact with this wealth and freshness of nature. The corn was still pale in tint, ripening slowly under the northern sun, with a glimmer of red poppies under the surface like the woven under-ground of some rich Indian stuff. As Lydia spoke, an old man became visible between the corn and the hedgerow, pushing his stooping shoulders along before him with a sidelong movement like a crab. His head was bent to one side, his footsteps shuffling. Ten years had told upon Isaac. He did not take off his hat when he saw Liddy approaching, such a ceremonial being scarcely necessary to the familiar intercourse of the country, but he nodded amiably, and made signs of welcome with his hand. As, however, the path widened a little just at that moment, and young Brotherton, making a quicker step, appeared suddenly at Lydia’s side, Isaac, who had not seen him before, was greatly startled. He stopped short in his crab-like course to stare at the new comer. He fell back a step or two and screwed his stooping head aloft in a sidelong attitude. Then he gave vent to a shrill, prolonged “E-eh!” which penetrated the air like a skewer. “So he’s coomed back,” the old man said.