But Mrs Lloyd, though quiet for a time, and letting matters rest till
the termination of Vanleigh and Sir Felix Landells's visit, was anything
but dormant.
The fact was, that Vanleigh had been in the way upon more than one
occasion. When Polly had been sent for a walk in the hope of enchanting
the "young master," Vanleigh had met her, and been so attentive that the
girl had come back at last, sobbing and almost defiant, telling her aunt
that sooner than be so treated she would run away back to the mountains
in Wales.
This put a stop to it for the time, and Aunt Lloyd waited, hearing
rumours that the two London visitors were engaged to the young ladies of
Tolcarne, and rubbing her hands thereon, for these were threatened
rivals out of the way.
Her encounters with Trevor had been few and far between; but all seemed
satisfactory, and, to use her own words, she "bided her time."
When the news came to her ears, endorsed by the sudden departure of the
visitors, and further confirmed by the many visits to Tolcarne, and
lastly by the coming of the Reas to Penreife, that Trevor was engaged to
Valentina Rea, the woman was furious.
"It shan't go on, Lloyd--I won't have it. I'll put a stop to it. He
shall marry Polly, or--"
"Martha, Martha!" cried her husband, wringing his hands--"you will ruin
us."
"Ruin! I'll ruin him--an upstart! I'll have him on his knees to me.
After the way in which I brought him up, to turn upon me like this. He
shall marry Polly!"
"How can you be so mad?" groaned Lloyd. "Oh, Martha, think of our old
age."
"Think!" said Mrs Lloyd, contemptuously, "I do think. Mad? Isn't a
girl with the blood of the Lloyds in her veins better than the daughter
of an upstart London merchant? There--hold your tongue; and don't you
interfere. I'm not going to be stopped in my plans, so I tell you.
Lloyd, are you asleep?"
"No," said her husband, with a heavy sigh, "I wish I was, so as to
forget my troubles."
"You dolt!" exclaimed Mrs Lloyd. "Have you seen Humphrey hanging about
lately?"
There was no answer.
"I say, have you seen Humphrey hanging about or talking to Polly lately?
I don't want to think the girl artful; but she has been very quiet, and
I hardly like it. Lloyd, do you hear what I say?"
There was a long-drawn breath for reply, and Mrs Lloyd went on making
her plans--giving her husband the credit of being asleep.
But the latter was very wide awake, and he had seen something that night
of which he did not wish to tell. For while Mrs Lloyd had been busy
with the company that evening, there had come a soft tap on the
housekeeper's room window, whose effect was to make little Polly turn
violently red in the face, begin to tremble, then, after listening at
the door, steal out, little thinking that the butler had seen her go.
Of course it was very artful and very wrong, but it is an acknowledged
fact that there is a certain magnetism in love; and, to go back to the
simile before used, when the loadstone came what could the industrious
little needle do?
The next morning, after breakfast, Mrs Lloyd called Polly to her.
"Found out at last," thought poor Polly.
She went shivering up to her very stern-countenanced aunt, with the
recollection of twenty sweet but stolen meetings on her conscience.
"Go and put on your white muslin dress and blue ribbons, Polly," said
her aunt.
"Are we going out, aunt?" faltered the girl.
"You are, my dear," said Mrs Lloyd; "so put on your hat--the new one,
mind."
"Please, aunt, I'd rather not go," faltered the girl.
"Go and dress yourself this minute," exclaimed the housekeeper, firmly:
"and look here, if you dare to cry, and make those eyes red, I'll punish
you."
Polly shivered, went to her room, and came back, looking as pretty a
little rustic rosebud as could be seen for miles around.
"Ah," said Mrs Lloyd, hanging about her with a grim smile on her face,
to give a pull at a plait here, a brush at a fold there, and ending by
smoothing the girl's soft hair--"if he can resist that, he's no man."
"Please, aunt, what do you mean?" pleaded the girl. "Don't send me out
again."
"There are no captains about now, goose, are there?" said the
housekeeper, angrily.
"No, aunt, dear," faltered the girl; "but don't send me out. What do
you mean?"
"What do I mean?" exclaimed Mrs Lloyd; "as if you didn't know what I
mean. To raise the house of Lloyd, child--to make you mistress of
Penreife--"
"Oh, aunt!"
"Instead of letting you throw yourself away upon a common servant."
"Aunt--aunt, dear!" cried the girl, piteously.
But the woman stopped her.
"Not another word. Now, look here--do I speak plain?"
"Yes, aunt."
"Hush!--no crying. You are to be Mrs Richard Trevor, with a handsome
husband, and plenty of money. If you don't know what's good for you, I
do. Now go out for a walk; and when he meets you, if you don't smile on
him, and lead him on, I'll--I'll--There, I believe I shall poison you!"
The girl turned, shivering, from the fierce-looking face, as if
believing the threat, and hurried out of the house.
"If Humphrey don't take me away I shall go and drown myself," she cried,
with a sob. "Oh, it's dreadful! He will hate me for this, and if Mr
Richard sees me, what will he think!"
Poor Polly's life had been a very hard one. So accustomed was she to
blindly obey, that it never occurred to her that she might take any
other route than the one so often indicated by her aunt; and she went as
usual--ready to cry, but not daring, and thinking bitterly of her
position.
"If I had only been a man," she thought, "I'd run away to sea, and--here
he is."
"Ah, little maiden," exclaimed Trevor--for Mrs Lloyd had timed the
matter well--"why, how bright and pretty you look!"
"Please, sir, I'm very sorry," faltered the girl.
"Sorry! Why? Have you come out here," he continued, suspiciously, "to
meet Humphrey?"
"Please, sir--no, sir," said the girl, looking appealingly in his frank
face.
"Having a walk then, eh?"
"Please, sir, aunt sent me," said the girl.
"Polly, my little maid, I believe you are a good girl," said Trevor, his
face growing dark--"there, don't cry, I'm not angry with you. Speak
out, and trust me. You are not afraid of me?"
"Oh no, sir. Humphrey says you're so good and kind," said the girl.
"Thanks to Humphrey for his good opinion," said Trevor. "But, now, tell
me plainly, what does all this mean?"
"Please, sir, I dursen't," sobbed the girl.
"Nonsense, child! Tell me directly."
"Aunt would kill me," sobbed Polly.
"Stuff, child! Now, be a good, sensible little girl, and fancy I'm
Humphrey."
"Oh, sir--please, sir, I couldn't do that."
"Come, come, speak out. Now, do you come of your own accord for these
walks?"
"No, sir. I--I--Aunt makes me."
"I thought so--I supposed so," said Trevor. "And why do you come?"
"Oh, sir, don't ask me, please--don't ask me," sobbed Polly, now crying
out-right.
"Now, look here, my little girl; if you'll speak plainly perhaps I can
help you. Once more, why do you come here? There, there, don't cry."
"Oh, please, sir, it's--it's aunt's doing."
"Well, well, child, speak," said Trevor, and he took the girl's hand.
"It makes me cross when you will keep on crying."
"Pray, sir, don't--pray, don't," she sobbed, trying to withdraw her
hand. "Oh! what shall I do?"
"Speak put," said Trevor.
"Aunt--aunt thinks, sir--wants, sir--you to marry me, sir; and oh!" she
cried, throwing herself on her knees, and holding up her little hands as
in prayer, "I do hate you so--I do, indeed!"
"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.