Thereby Hangs a Tale Part 55

"Thank you, little one," exclaimed Trevor, laughing merrily. "There, Polly, get up before you stain that pretty dress with the moss. Wipe your little eyes, and leave off hating me as soon as you can, and you shall marry Humphrey."

"Oh, sir!" faltered Polly, rising.

"There, little one, go and walk about till your eyes are not red; and if you should see Humphrey down by the long copse, where they are repairing the ditches, tell him I shall want to see him about three--no, stop, say this evening. I am going for a drive."

Polly hesitated a moment, and then caught and kissed his hand, shrinking back the next moment, ashamed at her boldness.

"There, I thought you would not hate me," said Trevor. "I'll go back at once and see your aunt. You shan't be unhappy any more, little maiden."

"Oh, pray, sir!" cried Polly again.

"I'm master here, my child; and I won't have anybody about me made unhappy if I can stay it. Now, trot along."

The girl gave him one timid glance, and then went on, while he turned in the direction of Penreife.

Before he had gone far, though, he turned back, with a smile on his lip.

"I'll wager a sovereign," he thought, "that Humphrey was not down at the long copse, but pretty close at hand, watching for the safety of his sweetheart."

He walked sharply back to a curve in the woodland path, and found that he was right; for some distance ahead he caught sight of Polly's pretty muslin dress, and across it there was plainly visible a bar of what resembled olive velveteen.

"Eight," said Trevor, smiling. "Well, why shouldn't they be happy too?

Now, then, to have it out with Mrs Lloyd."

Volume 2, Chapter XVIII.

A REVELATION.

"If you please," said a hard, cold voice.

And Richard Trevor started to find himself face to face with the object of his remark, one which he had uttered aloud.

Trevor stood for a moment looking round; but they were quite alone, and standing now in the lane where Mr Mervyn captured Fin Rea in the rugged tree far up the rocky bank.

"You had better return to the house, Mrs Lloyd," said Trevor, coldly.

"I want to speak to you."

"You can speak now, if you please," said the woman, in a low, suppressed voice. "I don't suppose you would like the servants to know."

Trevor was getting angry, and he took a step towards the woman, and held up a finger.

"You have been watching me, Mrs Lloyd."

"Yes," she said, coolly--"I came on purpose."

"You sent that poor girl here, then, Mrs Lloyd, and you have been playing the spy?"

"You can call it any hard names you like, Mr Richard," said the woman, defiantly.

She rolled her white ap.r.o.n round her arms, tightened her lips until they formed a thin livid line, and looked at him without flinching.

Trevor bit his lip to keep down his rising pa.s.sion, and then went on--

"Mrs Lloyd," he said, "I thought we had made a truce. Mind, you are the one who breaks it, not I."

The woman laughed mockingly.

"We may as well understand one another," said Trevor; "so speak out.

You have been forcing that poor girl, day after day, to throw herself in my way--have you not?"

"Yes."

She nodded her head many times, as she said the word with quite a sharp hiss.

"You wanted me to take a fancy to her?"

"Yes."

"To marry her?"

"Yes."

"And make her the mistress of Penreife?"

"Yes; and I mean to do it."

Trevor stared at her, in wonder at the effrontery displayed.

"And, in your foolish vanity, you thought such a thing possible?"

"Yes."

"Regardless of the poor girl's feelings?"

"Yes--yes--yes!" said Mrs Lloyd, slowly. "I know what is for her good--and yours."

"Mrs Lloyd," said Trevor, coldly, "I would gladly keep to my promise with you, that you should never leave Penreife. If harm to your prospects comes of this, don't blame me. You had better go back to the house."

He turned, as if to walk away; but she caught him sharply by the wrist.

"Stop!" she cried, angrily. "Tell me this. Have you been trying to make an engagement with that wax doll up at Tolcarne?"

"You insolent old--There, go back, Mrs Lloyd," he cried, checking himself. "You must be mad."

"Mad? Yes, enough to make me, you wild, ungrateful boy," she cried, her fingers tightening round his wrist, so that it would have taken a violent effort to free himself. "Stop, and listen to me."

Trevor looked at her, his anger cooling; for he thought the housekeeper was suffering from mental excitement brought on by the disappointment consequent upon the failure of her plans.