ET DEAM VIDIMUS
He was struck with admiration and horror of this frantic child.
"I thought you didn't care about me—and I knew I did—and, just then, I didn't care what became of us!" she explained. "You don't know how I have lain awake over the thought of what might have happened to you! I am dreadful once I am started."
"You may risk my neck," he told her plainly, "but not your own. And you are to be decent to your mother. She's not having a bit of a good time of it, and she may be right about me for all you know."
"She isn't," Blanche flared positively, as if she found him an enemy to himself. "But I will be nice if you want me to," she added with sudden docility; then, tipping her head a little, until it almost touched his, "I'd rather," she said, "do anything than that I should make you angry."
He thought this was merely a pretty speech, but he discovered on the same day the full truth of it. They had been walking over the turn of the hill, toward the barn, going for the horses, when the figure of the boy, George, came into sight below them, among the trees. It was some days since Carron had seen him. He had kept away from the house, was not even to be found when the diligent Mrs. Rader wanted him, and Blanche searched.
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