Meanwhile, the chief person in this scene lay quite still, not suffering as appeared, very quiet and tranquil in her mind, Susie’s arm supporting her, and her head on Susie’s breast. The bleeding had almost stopped, partly because of the complete peace, partly from Susie’s expedients. Mrs Ogilvy, no doubt, thought she was dying; but it did not disturb her. The loss of blood had reduced her to that state of weakness in which there is no struggle. Impressions passed lightly over her brain in its confusion. Sometimes she asked a question, and then forgot what it was, and the answer to it together. She was aware of a coming and going in the place, a sense of movement, the strange voices and steps of the men about; but they were all part of the turmoil, and she paid no attention to them. Only she roused a little when Robbie stood near: he looked so large, when one looked up at him lying stretched out on the floor. He was talking to some one gravely, standing up, a free man, talking and moving like the master of the house. She smiled and held out a feeble hand to him, and he came immediately and knelt down by her side. “He did not mean it,” she said. And then, “It is maybe not so bad as you think.” These were the little phrases which she had got by heart. He patted her on the sound shoulder with a large trembling hand, and bade her be quiet, very quiet, till the doctor came. “You have not left me, Robbie?” “No, mother.” His voice trembled very much, and he stooped and kissed her. “Never, never any more!” She smiled at him, lying there contented, with her head on Susie’s breast--joyful, but not surprised by this news, for nothing could surprise her now--and then she motioned to him to come closer, and whispered, “Has he got away?”