The Parson O' Dumford Part 84

"But, aunt, he will not see her. Richard will not--"

"A false, treacherous girl!" moaned Mrs Glaire. "Eve, my darling, for your sake, for her sake--thank Heaven, here is d.i.c.k! Oh, my boy, my darling!"

She threw her arms round him exultingly, as if to hold him, and save him from danger, whilst he threw off the heavy coat in which he was m.u.f.fled.

"Phew! I'm nearly suffocated," he cried. "There, that will do, mother.

Ah! Eve."

"But why did you leave the works, my boy?" cried Mrs Glaire.

"Sick of it," cried Richard, hastily. "I'll stay there no more. I'll open to-morrow. Curse the place, it's horrible of a night, and I've finished all the wine. What's the matter with Eve?"

"But," cried Mrs Glaire, evading the question, and speaking excitedly, "you must not stay, Richard; you must leave again to-night--now, at once."

"Where for?" said Richard, grimly.

"London--France--anywhere," exclaimed Mrs Glaire, piteously.

"Nova Scotia, or the North Pole," said Richard, savagely. "d.a.m.n it, mother, I won't hide from the curs any more. Here have I been for days in that wretched hole."

"But there's mischief brewing, d.i.c.k, my boy, I am sure there is. You must leave at once."

"Let it brew," he cried. "But who was that left the house as I came in?"

Mrs Glaire did not answer, only looked appealingly to Eve.

"I said who was that came out of the house as I came along--some woman?"

Still there was no answer, and the young man looked eagerly round the hall, to take a step aside, and pounced upon a handkerchief that had been dropped on the mat.

"Whose is this?" he cried, taking it to the light, and holding it out, first to inspect one corner and then another. "Daisy!" he cried, joyously. "Has Daisy been here? Do you hear? Speak, some of you. It was; it must have been. I might have known her in the dark."

"You coward--you villain!" cried Mrs Glaire, in a low, hissing whisper.

"Is there to be no end to your deceit? Stop. One moment. Let me tell you what I know. You planned to meet that girl to-night, and you left your hiding-place on purpose."

"Then it was Daisy!" cried Richard.

"Yes, it was Daisy. You were a little too late. You must have good spies, Richard, my son, clever people, to keep you informed, and you learned that your poor cheated cousin and I were gone out for the evening."

"What the deuce do you mean?" cried Richard, stamping impatiently.

"Mean?" cried his mother. "I mean that I took Daisy away, kept her in Sheffield, that she might be saved from a life of shame--saved--oh, G.o.d!

that I should have to say it--from my son."

"_You_--_you_ got Daisy away?" half shrieked Richard.

"Yes, I--I," said Mrs Glaire, "to save you--to make you an honest man, and that you might keep your word to your poor injured cousin. I did all this to the destruction of the happiness of the most faithful servant that ever served our house, and to break his poor wife's heart.

I did all this sin, Richard, for you--for my boy; but you have beaten me; I am defeated. It has been a hard fight, but it was not to be.

There, she has been found out by your emissary, that Big Harry."

"Hang me if I know what you are talking about," cried Richard.

"Bah! fool, throw off your disguise," cried Mrs Glaire. "If you will be a villain be a bold one, and not a mean, despicable, paltry, cowardly liar. There, go; she has come. Your spies managed well, but they could not foresee that the poor foolish girl would miss you--that you would be a few minutes too late, nor that we should return home early because I was unwell."

"Here, I'm not going to stop and hear this mad folly," cried Richard, with his hand upon the door.

"No; go!" cried Mrs Glaire; "but I curse you."

"Aunt!" shrieked Eve, clinging to her.

"Stand aside, Eve," cried Mrs Glaire, who was white with pa.s.sion.

"Go--go, Richard. It was Daisy Banks who left here. She came to seek you, and she has gone to find you at the works. Go, my son, go; the road is easy and broad, and if it ends in ruin and death--"

"Death!" cried Richard, recoiling.

"Yes, death, for there is mischief abroad."

"Bah! I'll hear no more of your mad drivel," cried the young man savagely. "I've heard too much;" and, flinging open the door, he rushed out.

"Aunt, aunt, what have you done?" cried Eve, piteously.

"Broken my poor weary heart," was the reply, as the stricken woman sank, half-fainting, on the floor.

Volume 3, Chapter XI.

IN THE WORKS.

As Daisy Banks ran from the house, wild almost with horror and affright, she made straight for the works, feeling that she might yet be in time to warn Richard Glaire of his peril, if she could not stay her father from the terrible deed he was about to commit.

On encountering Big Harry in the great town, that worthy had, on recovering from his surprise at the meeting, told her all--of the plot formed, and that her father, maddened against Richard Glaire for getting her away, was the man who had joined the Brotherhood, and had undertaken to lay the powder for the destruction of the works.

Yielding to her prayers, the great, honest fellow had agreed to accompany her back; and not a moment had been lost, but on reaching her home her mother was absent, and Joe Banks had been away all day.

Then came the visit to the House, and her leaving for the works.

"Wheer next, la.s.s?" said Harry, coming out of the shadow where he had been waiting, but Daisy brushed by him and was gone.

"See theer now," he muttered. "What, owd Tommy, is that thou?" he cried, as his old friend and fellow-workman, who had in the darkness missed Daisy, ran up.

"Did'st see Daisy Banks?" he cried.

"Yes, I see her. She's gone down street like a flash o' lightning."

"No, no; she must have gone to the works," cried Tom.

"Then she's gone all round town to get to 'em," said Harry.

"Come and see first," cried Tom, and the two men ran towards the gates.