Who Was Lost and Is Found: A NovelOliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
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Who Was Lost and Is Found: A Novel
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Criminals -- Fiction; Mothers and sons -- Fiction; Scotland -- Fiction
The shot was in the shoulder, and the wound bled a great deal. No
ambulance classes nor amateur doctoring had reached so far as Eskholm;
but Susie by the light of nature did all that was possible to stop the
bleeding until the doctor came. She sent Janet off for cushions and
pillows, to make so far as she could an impromptu bed, that the sufferer
might rest more easily. Most of the police party had been ordered
outside, though two of them still stood, a living screen, between the
group round the wounded woman and that figure lying in the doorway,
which was not to be disturbed till the doctor came, some one having
found or fancied a faint flutter in the heart. Mrs Ainslie, to do her
justice, had been totally overwhelmed for the moment. She had flung
herself down on her knees by Mrs Ogilvy’s side, weeping violently, her
face hidden in her hands. She was of no help in the dreadful strait; but
at least she was in a condition of excitement and shattered nerves from
which no help could be expected. Mr Logan had not taken any notice of
her, though he was not yet aroused to any questions as to her behaviour
and position here. He was moving about with soft suppressed steps from
one side to another, in an agony of desire to do his duty, and
consciousness of having been brought by a special providence. But the
minister was appalled by the dead face in the moonlight, the great
figure fallen like a tower. When it was said there was still life in
him, he knelt down heroically by Lew’s side, and tried to whisper into
his ear an entreaty that still at the eleventh hour he should prepare to
meet his God. And then he came round and looked over his daughter’s head
at Mrs Ogilvy. Ought he to recall to her mind the things that concerned
her peace as long as she was able to hear? But the words died on the
minister’s lips. He was a good man, though he was not quick to
understand, or able to divine. His lips moved with the conventional
phrases which belonged to his profession, which it was his duty to say;
but he could not utter any of them. He felt with a curious stupefied
sense of reality that most likely after all God was here, and knew more
perfectly all about it than he.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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