"Naughty Pepine, come here directly!"
Then through the trees he caught a glimpse of a lavender dress
gracefully draping an iron seat.
It was not the dog that made Frank Pratt flee with rapid strides, till a
thought made him check his steps.
"Suppose some one else was walking there!"
In the hope that it might be possible, Pratt went slowly on, taking
advantage of every break in the trees to peer anxiously through the
railings, seeing, however, nothing but nursemaids in charge of naughty
children, whom it was necessary to correct by screwing their arms at the
sockets--a beneficial practice, no doubt, but whose good was not
apparent at the time. There was a perambulator being propelled by a
nursemaid reading the _Family Herald_, while the two children it
contained were fast asleep--one hanging forward, sustained by a strap,
and looking like a fat Punch in a state of congestion; the other leaning
over the side, and having a red place ground in its ear by the
perambulator wheel. Farther on there were more children, playing alone
at throwing dirt, their protectress being engaged in a flirtation with a
butcher in blue with a round, bullet head, whose well-oiled hair shone
in the afternoon sun.
Pratt walked on, getting hopeless as he progressed, for soon he would
come within range of Pepine, and perhaps be discovered when--What was
that?
A sharp, short little cough that could be no other than Fin's; and
there, through the trees, were she and her sister, Tiny resting on Fin's
arm, and walking very slowly.
There was an opening in the shrubs farther on; and hurrying to this,
though it was dangerously near Pepine and Aunt Matty, Pratt waited the
coming of the sisters.
Alas, for human hopes!--they had turned back, and he had to hurry after
them for some distance before he could find an opening sufficiently
clear to display his figure, when he hazarded a cough; and on Fin
looking sharply round, he followed it up with a "How d'ye do, Miss Rea?"
"It's Mr Pratt!" he heard Fin whisper. And then came back a quiet
response.
"Do you always walk like this--within prison bars?" said Pratt, walking
on parallel with them.
"It can't be prison when one holds the keys, Mr Pratt," said Fin,
sharply.
"You'll let me shake hands?" he said, after a pause. "I never see you
now."
"How can you?" said Fin, sharply, "when you never call."
"What was the use of my calling, when your servant could only speak me
one speech?" said Pratt.
"And pray, what was that?" said Fin, with her nose in the air. "Not at
home."
Fin gave her foot a little stamp on the gravel, and whispered to her
sister. By this time they had reached the gate, just as a nursemaid
unlocked it to pass through with her charge.
"Thanks," said Pratt, quietly. And, walking in, he was the next moment
with Fin and her sister; the former looking defiant, and half drawing
back her hand, the latter so pale and ill that, forgetting Fin, Pratt
took both her hands affectionately, as, with a husky voice, he
exclaimed--
"My dear Miss Rea, I didn't know you had been so ill."
Tiny answered with a gentle smile; and Fin, who had been setting up all
the thorns about her, ready to tear and lacerate this intruder, now
looked quite humid of eye, and shook hands warmly.
"I--I didn't know you'd be so glad to see me," said Pratt, flushing with
pleasure.
"I didn't say I was," said Fin, archly.
"You looked so," it was on Pratt's lips to say; but he checked it, and
they strolled on--away from Aunt Matty, after Fin had mischievously
proposed that Pratt should go and see her--till Tiny complained of
fatigue and sat down.
Here was an opportunity not to be lost; and, after a little
solicitation, Fin consented to leave her sister and walk on,
conditionally that they kept in sight.
Pratt, on the strength of his prosperity, had determined to sound his
little companion; but before they had gone a dozen yards, he found that
his own affairs were to be of no account.
"What's become of that wretch of a friend of yours?" said Fin, sharply.
"Do you mean Sir Felix Landells?" said Pratt, borrowing a shaft from her
own quiver.
"No, I don't," said Fin, flushing scarlet, "nor any such silly donkey, I
mean--"
Pratt would have gone down on his knees in the gravel, only there was a
nursemaid close by, and a big, fat child was sucking its thumb, and
staring at them; but he burst out, in a husky voice--
"Oh, Miss Rea--Finetta--pray, pray say that again."
"Indeed, I shall do no such thing," said Fin, sharply, and becoming more
red--"why should I?"
"Because it makes me so happy," said Pratt. "I thought it was to be
he."
"Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself," said Fin. "A nice feeling
of respect you must have for me, to couple me with that scented dandy."
"Finetta, don't be hard upon me," gasped Pratt--"I can't talk now. If I
had you in a witness-box I could go ahead, but I feel now as if I were
going to lose my case."
"What stuff are you talking?" said Fin, whose breast was panting.
"I was trying to tell you that I loved you with my whole heart," said
Pratt, earnestly; "even as I learned to love you down in Cornwall, when
I was such a poor, miserable beggar that I wouldn't have told you for
the world."
"And now you're in Jumbles _versus_ Hankey, and the great cotton case."
"Why, how did you know?" cried Pratt.
"I always read the law reports in the _Times_" said Fin, demurely.
Pratt choked; he felt blind; then the railings seemed to be dancing with
the trees, and the little children to be transformed into cherubs,
attended by angels, with triumphant perambulating cars. He felt as if
he wanted to do something frantic; and it was a minute before he came to
himself, and could see that the tears were running down Fin's cheeks.
"Thank you," he said at last. "Finetta--Fin--may I call you Fin?--
dearest Fin, say I may."
"No, no, no," jerked out Fin, hysterically--"you mustn't do anything of
the kind. Pa wouldn't approve, and Aunt Matty hates you, and--and--and
I'm nearly sure I do."
"Go on hating me like this, then," cried Pratt, rapturously. "Oh,
darling, you've made me so happy!"
"I haven't," protested Fin, "and I can't, and I won't. How can I, when
poor darling Tiny has been so treated by that odious wretch?"
"What--Vanleigh?"
"No, you know what I mean; but he's an odious wretch, too. It's
abominable. Mr Trevor ought to be hung."
"Why?" said Pratt.
"Why?" echoed Fin. "Hasn't he jilted my poor darling, and behaved
cruelly to her, after winning her heart, just as all men do?"
"No," said Pratt, stoutly.
"What!" cried Fin, "didn't I see him out with her himself, and hasn't
somebody been at our house dropping hints about it--unwillingly, of
course--and made pa delighted, and Aunt Matty malicious? while poor
mamma has done nothing but cry, because she liked and believed in your
nice friend. As to poor Tiny, she was dangerously ill for a time."
"I don't care," said Pratt, vehemently; and he arranged an imaginary
wig, and waved some non-existent papers in the air. "Matters may be
against my client--I mean Dick; but I'll stake my life on his honour. I
say Richard Trevor--Lloyd, as he calls himself now--is a true man of
honour. Look how he gave up the estate! See how he yielded his
pretensions to Miss Rea's hand! And do you dare to tell me that this is
a man who would stoop to a flirtation, or worse, when he owns to being
cut up by the loss he has sustained? I say it's impossible, and that
the person who would dare to charge my cli--friend, Richard Trevor,
alias Lloyd, with such duplicity is--"
"What?" said Fin, sharply. That one little word went through Frank
Pratt. He cooled on the instant, the flush of excitement passed away,
and, in a crestfallen manner, he groaned--
"That's just like me. What a fool I am! Now you'll be cross with me."
"No, I shan't," said Fin, demurely. "I like it. It's nice of you to
stand up for your friend. I like a man to be a trump."
Fin's face was like scarlet as soon as she made this admission; and to
qualify it, she hurriedly exclaimed--
"You may like him if you please; but till I see him cleared I shall hate
him bitterly; and--and--and--I don't know how he ought to be punished.
He'll be punished enough, though, by losing my sweet sister. Why didn't
you like her, instead of some one else?" she said, archly.
"Don't ask me," said Pratt. "I'm so happy, I shall do something
foolish."
"You haven't anything to be happy about," said Fin; "for I'm going to
devote myself to Tiny, and if they force her into this hateful marriage,
I mean to be a nun."
"What marriage?" said Pratt.
"Why, with that Bluebeard of a captain."
"And are they pushing that on?"
"Yes," said Fin, "and it's abominable. It will kill her."
"No, it won't!" said Pratt, coolly.
"Then you're a wretch!" said Fin, with flashing eyes. "I say it will."
"And I say it won't," said Pratt; "because it must never come off."
Fin stared at him.
"I'll see to that," said Pratt, confidently. "I have a friend busy
about Master Captain Vanleigh. But, oh!" he exclaimed, as the
recollection of one Barnard, solicitor, brought up a gentleman of the
name of Mervyn--"but, oh! I say, tell me this, Fin--Mr Mervyn--you
know--there wasn't ever--anything--eh?"
"Oh, you goose!" cried Fin, stamping her foot. "Mr Mervyn--dear Mr
Mervyn, of all people in the world!--who used to treat us like as if we
were his little girls. Oh, Mr Pratt, I did think you had some sense in
your head."
"Oh no," said Pratt, solemnly; "never--not a morsel."
Then they looked at one another, and laughed; but only for Fin to turn
preternaturally serious.
"I must go back to Tiny now," she said.
"But when shall I see you again?" urged Pratt.
"Perhaps never," said Fin--"unless you can come about once a week, on a
Friday afternoon, here in the square, and tell me some news that will do
poor Tiny good."
"I may come and say good-bye to her, then?" said Pratt, getting hold for
a moment of the little half-withdrawn hand.
"Yes, if you like. No--here's Aunt Matty."
In fact her herald approached in the shape of Pepine, who no sooner
caught sight of the retreating form of Pratt, than he made a dash at
him, chasing him ignominiously to the gate, where he stood barking long
after his quarry had gone. But Pepine was no gainer in the end, for
during the next week Fin never neglected an opportunity of administering
to him a furtive thump.
Volume 3, Chapter XII.