Jenny had not been seated alone many minutes after the carriage had
driven off, dwelling excitedly upon her visitor's words respecting
Kate's disappearance, when the front door was opened softly, and there
was a tap on the panel of the room where she sat.
"Who's there? Come in."
"Only me," said a familiar voice, and, hunting whip in hand, Claud
Wilton stood smiling in the doorway.
"You!" cried Jenny, with flaming cheeks. "How dare you come here?"
"Because I wanted to see you," he said. "Just met the mater, and she
told me how bad you'd been, and that you talked about dying. I say, you
know, none of that nonsense."
"What is that to you, sir, if I did?"
"Oh, lots," he said, twirling the lash of his whip as he stood looking
at her. "If you were to pop off I should go and hang myself in the
stable."
"Go away from here directly. How dare you come?" cried Jenny,
indignantly.
"Because I love you. You made me, and you can't deny that."
"Oh!" ejaculated the girl, as her cheeks flamed more hotly.
"I can't help it now. I've been ever so miserable ever since I knew you
were so bad; and when the old girl said what she did it regularly turned
me over, and I was obliged to come. I say, I do love you, you know."
"It is not love," she cried hotly; "it is an insult. Go away. My
brother will be here directly."
"I don't care for your brother," said the young man, sulkily. "I'm as
good as he is. I wanted to see how bad you were."
"Well, you've seen. I've been nearly dead with fever and pain, and it
was all through you that night."
"Yes, it was all through me, dear."
"Silence, sir; how dare you!"
"Because I love you, and 'pon my soul, I'd have been ten times as bad
sooner than you should."
"It is all false--a pack of cruel, wicked lies."
"No, it ain't. I know I've told lots of lies to girls, but then they
were only fools, and I've been a regular beast, Jenny, but I'm going to
be all square now; am, 'pon my word. I didn't use to know what a real
girl was in those days, but I've woke up now, and I'd do anything to
please you. There, I feel sometimes as if I wish I were your dog."
"Pah! Go and find your rich cousin, and tell her that."
"--My rich cousin," he cried, hotly. "She's gone, and jolly go with
her. I know I made up to her--the guv'nor wanted me to, for the sake of
her tin--but I'm sick of the whole business, and I wouldn't marry her if
she'd got a hundred and fifty millions instead of a hundred and fifty
thousand."
"And do you think I'm so weak and silly as to believe all this?" she
cried.
"I d'know," he said, quietly. "I think you will. Clever girl like you
can tell when a fellow's speaking the truth."
"Go away at once, before my brother comes."
"Shan't I wouldn't go now for a hundred brothers."
"Oh," panted Jenny. "Can't you see that you will get me in fresh
trouble with him, and make me more miserable still?"
"I don't want to," he said, softly, "and I'd go directly if I thought it
would do that, but I wouldn't go because of being afraid. I say, ain't
you precious hard on a fellow? I know I've been a brute, but I think
I've got some good stuff in me, and if I could make you care for me I
shouldn't turn out a bad fellow."
"I will not listen to you. Go away."
"I say, you know," he continued, as he stood still in the doorway, "why
won't you listen to me and be soft and nice, same as you were at first?"
"Silence, sir; don't talk about it. It was all a mistake."
"No, it wasn't. You began to fish for me, and you caught me. I've got
the hook in me tight, and I couldn't get away if I tried. I say, Jenny,
please listen to me. I am in earnest, and I'll try so hard to be all
that is square and right. 'Pon my soul I will."
"Where is your cousin?"
"I don't know--and don't want to," he added.
"Yes you do, you took her away."
"Well, it's no use to swear to a thing with a girl; if you won't believe
me when I say I don't know, you won't believe me with an oath. What do
I want with her? She hated me, and I hated her. There is only one nice
girl in the world, and that's you."
"Pah!" cried Jenny, who was more flushed than ever. "Look at me."
"Well, I am looking at you," he said, smiling, "and it does a fellow
good."
"Can't you see that I've grown thin, and yellow, and ugly?"
"No; and I'll punch any fellow's head who says you are."
"Don't you know that I injured my ankle, and that I'm going to walk with
crutches?"
"Eh?" he cried, starting. "I say, it ain't so bad as that, is it?"
"Yes; I can't put my foot to the ground."
"Phew!" he whistled, with a look of pity and dismay in his countenance;
"poor little foot."
"I tell you I shall be a miserable cripple, I'm sure; but I'm going
away, and you'll never see me again."
"Oh, won't I?" he said, smiling. "You just go away, and I'll follow you
like a shadow. You won't get away from me."
"But don't I tell you I shall be a miserable cripple?"
"Well," he said, thoughtfully; "it is a bad job, and perhaps it'll get
better. If it don't I can carry you anywhere; I'm as strong as a horse.
Look here, it's no use to deny it, you made me love you, and you must
have me now--I mean some day."
"Never!" cried Jenny, fiercely.
"Ah, that's a long time to wait; but I'll wait. Look here, little one,"
he cried, passionate in his earnestness now, "I love you, and I'm sorry
for all that's gone by; but I'm getting squarer every day."
"But I tell you it is impossible. I'm going away; it was all a mistake.
I can't listen to you, and I tell you once more I'm going to be a
miserable, peevish cripple all my life."
"No, you're not," said the lad, drawing himself up and tightening his
lips. "You're not going to be miserable, because I'd make you happy;
and I like a girl to be sharp with a fellow like you can; it does one
good. And as to being a cripple, why, Jenny, my dear, I love you so
that I'd marry you to-morrow, if you had no legs at all."
Jenny looked at him in horror, as he still stood framed in the doorway;
but averted her eyes, turning them to the window, as she found how
eagerly he was watching her, while her heart began to beat rapidly, as
she felt now fully how dangerous a game was that upon which she had so
lightly entered. Rough as his manner was, she could not help feeling
that it was genuine in its respect for her, though all the same she felt
alarmed; but directly after, the dread passed away in a feeling of
relief, and a look of malicious glee made her eyes flash, as she saw her
brother coming along the road.
But the flash died out, and in repentance for her wish that Pierce might
pounce suddenly upon the intruder, she said, quickly:
"Mr Wilton, don't stop here; go--go, please, directly. Here's my
brother coming."
She blushed, and felt annoyed directly after, angry with herself and
angry at her lame words, the more so upon Claud bursting out laughing.
"Not he," cried the lad. "You said that to frighten me."
"No, indeed; pray go. He will be so angry," she cried.
"I don't care, so long as you are not."
"But I am," she cried, "horribly angry."
"You don't look it. I never saw you seem so pretty before."
"But he is close here, and--and, and I am so ill--it will make me worse.
Pray, pray, go."
"I say, do you mean that?" he said, eagerly. "If I thought you really
did, I'd--"
"You insolent dog! How dare you?" roared Pierce, catching him by the
collar and forcing him into the room. "You dare to come here and insult
my sister like this!"
"Who has insulted her?" cried Claud, hotly.
"You, sir. It is insufferable. How dare you come here?"
"Gently, doctor," said Claud, coolly; "mind what you are saying."
"Why are you here, sir?"
"Come to see how your sister was."
"What is it to you, puppy? Leave the house," cried, Pierce, snatching
the hunting whip from the young man's hand, "or I'll flog you as you
deserve."
"No, you won't," said Claud, looking him full in the eyes, with his lips
tightening together. "You can't be such a coward before her, and upset
her more. Ask her if I've insulted her."
"No, no, indeed, Pierce; Mr Wilton has been most kind and gentlemanly--
more so than I could have expected," stammered Jenny, in fear.
"Gentlemanly," cried Pierce scornfully. "Then it is by your invitation
he is here. Oh, shame upon you."
"No, it isn't," cried Claud stoutly. "She didn't know I was coming, and
when I did come she ordered me off--so now then."
"Then leave this house."
"No, I won't, till I've said what I've got to say; so put down that whip
before you hurt somebody, more, perhaps, than you will me. You're not
her father."
"I stand in the place of her father, sir, and I order you to go."
"Look here, Doctor, don't forget that you are a gentleman, please, and
that I'm one, too."
"A gentleman!" cried Pierce angrily, "and dare to come here in my
absence and insult my sister!"
"It isn't insulting her to come and tell her how sorry I am she has been
ill."
"A paltry lie and subterfuge!" cried Pierce.
"No, it isn't either of them, but the truth, and I don't care whether
you're at home, Doctor, or whether you're out I came here to tell her
outright, like a man, that I love her; and I don't care what you say or
do, I shall go on loving her, in spite of you or a dozen brothers.--Now
give me my whip."
His brave outspoken way took Pierce completely aback, and the whip was
snatched from his hand, Claud standing quietly swishing it round and
round till he held the point in his fingers, looking hard at Jenny the
while.
"There," he said, "I don't mean to quarrel; I'm going now. Good-bye,
Jenny; I mean it all, every word, and I hope you'll soon be better.
There," he said, facing round to Leigh. "I shan't offer to shake hands,
because I know that you won't but when you like I will. You hate me
now, like some of your own poisons, because you think I'm after Cousin
Kate, but you needn't. There, you needn't flinch; I'm not blind. I
smelt that rat precious soon. She never cared for me, and I never cared
for her, and you may marry her and have her fortune if you can find her,
for anything I'll ever do to stop it--so there."
He nodded sharply, stuck his hat defiantly on his head, and marched out,
leaving Pierce Leigh half stunned by his words; and the next minute they
heard him striding down the road, leaving brother and sister gazing at
each other with flashing eyes.