Charlotte Yonge - A Reputed Changeling стр 7.

For death it will assuredly be, sir, if he be jolted and shaken along the Portsdown roadsyea, I question whether you would get him to Oakwood alive, said Brent, with naval roughness.

Indeed, sir, added Mrs. Woodford, Mrs. Oakshott may be assured of my giving him as tender care as though he were mine own son.

I am beholden to you, madam, said the Major; I know your kindliness of heart; but in good sooth, the unhappy and rebellious lad merits chastisement rather than pity, since what should he be doing at this distance from home, where he was shut up for his misdemeanours, save fleeing like the Prodigal of the parable, or else planning another of his malicious pranks, as I greatly fear, on you or your daughter, madam.  If so, he hath fallen into the pit that he made for others.

The impulse was to tell what had occurred, but the surgeons presence, and the dread of making all worse for the poor boy checked both the hosts, and Mrs. Woodford only declared that since the day of the apology he had never molested her or her little girl.

Still, said the Major, it is not possible to leave him in a strangers house, where at any moment the evil spirit that is in him may break forth.

Come and see him, and judge, said Dr. Woodford.

When the father beheld the deathly face and motionless form, stern as he was, he was greatly shocked.  His heavy tread caused a moan, and when he said What, Perry, how now? there was a painful shrinking and twitching, which the surgeon greeted as evidence of returning animation, but which made him almost drag the Major out of the room for fear of immediate consequences.

Major Oakshott, and still more the servant, who had arrived in the coach and come upstairs, could not but be convinced that removal was not to be thought of.  The maid was, moreover, too necessary to her mistress to be left to undertake the nursing, much to her masters regret, but to the joy of Mrs. Woodford, who felt certain that by far the best chance for the poor boy was in his entire separation from all associations with the home where he had evidently suffered so much.

There was, perhaps, nothing except the pageship at Court that could have gone more against Major Oakshotts principles than to leave his son in the house of a prelatical minister, but alternative there was none, and he could only express how much he was beholden to the Dr. and Mrs. Woodford.

All their desire was that he would remain at a distance, for during the long and weary watch they had to keep over the half-conscious lad, the sound of a voice or even a horses tread from Oakwood occasioned moans and restlessness.  The Major rode over, or sent his sons, or a servant daily to inquire during the first fortnight, except on the Sundays, and on each of these the patient made a step towards improvement.

At first he lay in a dull, death-like stupor, only groaning if disturbed, but by and by there was a babbling murmur of words, and soon the sound of his brothers loud voice at the door, demanding from the saddle how it went to-day with Peregrine, caused a shriek of terror and such a fit of trembling that Mrs. Woodford had to go out and make a personal request that Oliver would never again speak under the window.  To her great relief, when the balance between life and death had decidedly turned, the inquiries became less frequent, and could often be forestalled by sending messengers to Oakwood.

The boy usually lay still all day in the darkened room, only showing pain at light or noise, but at night he often talked and rambled a good deal.  Sometimes it was Greek or Latin, sometimes whole chapters of Scripture, either denunciating portions or genealogies from the First Book of Chronicles, the polysyllabic names pouring from his mouth whenever he was particularly oppressed or suffering, so that when Mrs. Woodford had with some difficulty made out what they were, she concluded that they had been set as tasks of penance.

At other times Peregrine talked as if he absolutely believed himself in fairyland, accepting a strawberry or cherry as elfin food, promising a tester in Annes shoe when she helped to change his pillow, or conversing in the style of Puck, or Robin Goodfellow, on intended pranks.  Often he fancied himself the lubber fiend resting at the fire his hairy strength, and watching for cock-crow as the signal for flinging out-of-doors.  It was wonderful how in the grim and strict Puritanical household he could have imbibed so much fairy lore, but he must have eagerly assimilated and recollected whatever he heard, holding them as tidings from his true kith and kin; and, indeed, when he was running on thus, Mrs. Woodford sometimes felt a certain awe and chill, as of the preternatural, and could hardly believe that he belonged to ordinary human nature.  Either she or the Doctor always took the night-watch after the talking mood set in, for they could not judge of the effect it might have on any of the servants.  Indeed they sometimes doubted whether this were not the beginning of permanent insanity, as the delusion seemed to strengthen with symptoms of recovery.

Then, said Dr. Woodford, Heaven help the poor lad!

For sad indeed was the lot in those days of even the most harmless lunatic.

Yet, said the lady, I scarcely think anything can be worse than what he undergoes at home.  When I hear the terror and misery of his voice, I doubt whether we did him any true kindness by hindering his father from killing him outright by the shaking of his old coach.

Nay, sister, we strove to do our duty, though it may be we have taken on ourselves a further charge.

CHAPTER IV

Imp Or No Imp

At last came a wakening with intelligence in the eyes.  In the summer morning light that streamed through the chinks of the shutters Mrs. Woodford perceived the glance of inquiry, and when she brought some cool drink, a rational though feeble voice asked those first questions, Who? and where?

I am Mrs. Woodford, my dear child.  You remember me at Winchester.  You are at Portchester.  You fell down and hurt yourself, but you are getting better.

She was grieved to see the look of utter disappointment and weariness that overspread the features, and the boy hardly spoke again all day.  There was much drowsiness, but also depression, and more than once Mrs. Woodford detected tears, but at other times he received her attentions with smiles and looks of wondering gratitude, as though ordinary kindness and solicitude were so new to him that he did not know what to make of them, and perhaps was afraid of breaking a happy dream by saying too much.

The surgeon saw him, and declared him so much better that he might soon be taken home, recommending his sitting up for a little while as a first stage.  Peregrine, however, seemed far from being cheered, and showed himself so unwilling to undergo the fatigue of being dressed, even when good Dr. Woodford had brought up his own large chairthe only approach to an easy one in the housethat the proposal was dropped, and he was left in peace for the rest of the day.

In the evening Mrs. Woodford was sitting by the window, letting her needlework drop as the light faded, and just beginning to doze, when her repose was broken by a voice saying Madam.

Yes, Peregrine.

Come near, I pray.  Will you tell no one?

No; what is it?

In so low a tone that she had to bend over him: Do you know how the Papists cross themselves?

Yes, I have seen the Queens confessor and some of the ladies make the sign.