Chapter 12

CHAPTER XII NELL ADOPTED

A COUPLE of hours later, Harry still unconscious, and the child
in a very feeble state, were brought to the cottage by Jack Ryan
and his companions. The old overman listened to the account
of their adventures, while Madge attended with the utmost care
to the wants of her son, and of the poor creature whom he had
rescued from the pit.

Harry imagined her a mere child, but she was a maiden of the age
of fifteen or sixteen years.

She gazed at them with vague and wondering eyes; and the thin face,
drawn by suffering, the pallid complexion, which light
could never have tinged, and the fragile, slender figure,
gave her an appearance at once singular and attractive.
Jack Ryan declared that she seemed to him to be an uncommonly
interesting kind of ghost.

It must have been due to the strange and peculiar
circumstances under which her life hitherto had been led,
that she scarcely seemed to belong to the human race.
Her countenance was of a very uncommon cast, and her eyes,
hardly able to bear the lamp-light in the cottage, glanced around
in a confused and puzzled way, as if all were new to them.

As this singular being reclined on Madge's bed and awoke to consciousness,
as from a long sleep, the old Scotchwoman began to question her a little.

"What do they call you, my dear?" said she.

"Nell," replied the girl.

"Do you feel anything the matter with you, Nell?"

"I am hungry. I have eaten nothing since--since--"

Nell uttered these few words like one unused to speak much. They were
in the Gaelic language, which was often spoken by Simon and his family.
Madge immediately brought her some food; she was evidently famished.
It was impossible to say how long she might have been in that pit.

"How many days had you been down there, dearie?" inquired Madge.

Nell made no answer; she seemed not to understand the question.

"How many days, do you think?"

"Days?" repeated Nell, as though the word had no meaning for her,
and she shook her head to signify entire want of comprehension.

Madge took her hand, and stroked it caressingly. "How old are you,
my lassie?" she asked, smiling kindly at her.

Nell shook her head again.

"Yes, yes," continued Madge, "how many years old?"

"Years?" replied Nell. She seemed to understand that word
no better than days! Simon, Harry, Jack, and the rest,
looked on with an air of mingled compassion, wonder, and sympathy.
The state of this poor thing, clothed in a miserable garment
of coarse woolen stuff, seemed to impress them painfully.

Harry, more than all the rest, seemed attracted by the very peculiarity
of this poor stranger. He drew near, took Nell's