Peg O' My Heart Part 64

"Ye're not goin' out o' this house to-night if I have to wake everyone in it."

"Wake them!" cried Ethel. "Wake them. They couldn't stop me. Nothing can stop me now. I'm sick of this living on CHARITY; sick of meeting YOU day by day, an implied insult in your every look and word, as much as to say: 'I'M giving you your daily bread; I'M keeping the roof over you!' I'm sick of it. And I end it to-night. Let me go or I'll--I'll--"

and she tried in vain to release herself from Peg's grip.

Peg held her resolutely:

"What d'ye mane by INSULT? An' yer DAILY BREAD? An' kapin' the roof over ye? What are ye ravin' about at all?"

"I'm at the end--to-night. I'm going!" and she struggled with Peg up to the windows. But Peg did not loose her hold. It was firmer than before.

"You're not goin' away with him, I tell ye. Ye're NOT. What d'ye suppose ye'd be goin' to? I'll tell ye. A wakin' an' sleepin'

h.e.l.l--that's what it would be."

"I'm going," said the distracted girl.

"Ye'd take him from his wife an' her baby?"

"He hates THEM! and I hate THIS! I tell you I'm going--"

"So ye'd break yer mother's heart an' his wife's just to satisfy yer own selfish pleasure? Well I'm glad _I_ sinned to-night in doin' what I wanted to do since it's given me the chance to save YOU from doin' the most shameful thing a woman ever did!"

"Will you--" and Ethel again struggled to get free.

"YOU'LL stay here and HE'LL go back to his home if I have to tell everyone and disgrace yez both."

Ethel cowered down frightenedly.

"No! No! You must not do that! You must not do that!" she cried, terror-stricken.

"Ye just told me yer own mother couldn't stop ye?" said Peg.

"My mother mustn't know. She mustn't know. Let me go. He is waiting--and it is past the time--"

"Let him wait!" replied Peg firmly. "He gave his name an' life to a woman an' it's yer duty to protect her an' the child she brought him."

"I'd kill myself first!" answered Ethel through her clenched teeth.

"No, ye won't. Ye won't kill yerself at all. Ye might have if ye'd gone with him. Why that's the kind of man that tires of ye in an hour and laves ye to sorrow alone. Doesn't he want to lave the woman now that he swore to cherish at the altar of G.o.d? What do ye suppose he'd do to one he took no oath with at all? Now have some sense about it. I know him and his kind very well. Especially HIM. An' sure it's no compliment he's payin' ye ayther. Faith, he'd ha' made love to ME if I'd LET him."

"What? To YOU?" cried Ethel in astonishment.

"Yes, to ME. Here in this room to-day. If ye hadn't come in when ye did, I'd ha' taught him a lesson he'd ha' carried to his grave, so I would!"

"He tried to make love to you?" repeated Ethel incredulously, though a chill came at her heart as she half realised the truth of Peg's accusation.

"Ever since I've been in this house," replied Peg. "An' to-day he comes toward me with his arms stretched out. 'Kiss an' be friends!' sez he--an' in YOU walked."

"Is that true?" asked Ethel.

"On me poor mother's memory it is, Ethel!" replied Peg.

Ethel sank down into a chair and covered her eyes.

"The wretch!" she wailed, "the wretch!"

"That's what he is," said Peg. "An' ye'd give yer life into his kapin'

to blacken so that no dacent man or woman would ever look at ye or spake to ye again."

"No! That is over! That is over!"

All the self-abas.e.m.e.nt of consenting to, or even considering going with, such a creature as Brent now came uppermost. She was disgusted through and through to her soul. Suddenly she broke down and tears for the first time within her remembrance came to her. She sobbed and sobbed as she had not done since she was a child.

"I hate myself," she cried between her sobs. "Oh, how I hate myself"

Peg was all pity in a moment. She took the little travelling bag away from Ethel and put it on the table. Then with her own hands she staunched Ethel's tears and tried to quiet her.

"Ethel acushla! Don't do that! Darlin'! Don't! He's not worth it. Kape yer life an' yer heart clane until the one man in all the wurrld comes to ye with HIS heart pure too, and then ye'll know what rale happiness means."

She knelt down beside the sobbing girl and took Ethel in her arms, and tried to comfort her.

"Sure, then, cry dear, and wash away all the sins of this night. It's the salt of yer tears that'll cleanse yer heart an' fall like Holy Wather on yer sowl. Ssh! There! There! That's enough now. Stop now an'

go back to yer room, an' slape until mornin', an' with the sunlight the last thought of all this will go from ye. Ssh! There now! Don't! An'

not a wurrd o' what's happened here to-night will cross my lips."

She helped her cousin up and supported her. Ethel was on the point of fainting, and her body was trembling with the convulsive force of her half-suppressed sobs.

"Come to MY room," said Peg in a whisper, as she helped Ethel over to the stairs. "I'll watch by yer side till mornin'. Lane on me. That's right. Put yer weight on me."

She picked up the travelling-bag and together the two girls began to ascend the stairs.

Ethel gave a low choking moan.

"Don't, dear, ye'll wake up the house," cried Peg anxiously. "We've only a little way to go. Aisy now. Not a sound! Ssh, dear! Not a morsel o' noise."

Just as the two girls reached the landing, Peg in her anxiety stepped short, missed the top step, lost her footing and fell the entire length of the staircase into the room, smashing a tall china flower-vase that was reposing on the post at the foot of the stairs.

The two girls were too stunned for a moment to move.

The worst thing that could possibly have happened was just what DID happen.

There would be all kinds of questions and explanations. Peg instantly made up her mind that they were not going to know why Ethel was there.

Ethel must be saved and at any cost.

She sprang to her feet. "Holy Mother!" she cried, "the whole house'll be awake! Give me yer hat! Quick! An' yer cloak! An' yer bag!" Peg began quickly to put on Ethel's hat and cloak. Her own she flung out of sight beneath the great oak table.

"Now remember," she dictated, "ye came here because ye heard me. Ye weren't goin' out o' the house at all. Ye just heard me movin' about in here. Stick to that."