Thereby Hangs a Tale Part 56

"What do you want to say?" he said, quietly.

"A great deal. Ah, you see, you must listen. Now tell me--that Miss Rea, have you been talking to her father and mother?"

"Yes," said Trevor, thinking it better to humour her till he could get her back to the house.

"Then go and break it all off--at once. Do you hear--at once."

"And why, pray?" said Trevor, smiling--the position, now that his anger had pa.s.sed, seeming ridiculous.

"Because you are to marry little Mary, as I wish," said Mrs Lloyd, in a quick whisper.

"The parties, neither of them being agreed. Come, Mrs Lloyd, let's get back to the house."

"Richard," cried the woman, shaking his arm--"listen. Do you hear me?

How dare you laugh at me like this?"

"Come, Mrs Lloyd--come, nurse, what are you thinking about?" said Trevor, good-humouredly. But he was beginning to fret under the opposition.

"Of your fixture--of your good, boy. Now, listen to me, Richard. I have long planned this out. I have brought Mary here, educated her, and prepared her for it."

"And now she has fallen in love with Humphrey, and they are going to marry," said Trevor, laughing.

But the smile pa.s.sed away as he saw the malignant look in the woman's face.

"Humphrey!" she exclaimed, and as she uttered the name she spat upon the ground--"Humphrey shall go. Humphrey shall not stay here. I hate him!

His being here is a curse to me."

"Her own son. The woman is crazy," thought Trevor; and he looked anxiously in her eyes.

"Mrs Lloyd," he began; but she caught him by the other wrist, and her strength in her excitement was prodigious.

"Richard," she exclaimed, "will you mind me--will you do as I wish, and marry Polly?"

"Come to the house, and let's talk about it there, nurse," he said, kindly.

"No--no! here--here! I say you _shall_ have her, or, mark me, you shall rue it. There, I know what you think; but I'm as sane as you are--more sane, for you would throw yourself away, and I won't let you."

"Come, Mrs Lloyd, there must be an end to this. Come to the house."

"Stay where you are, boy," she cried, with her eyes flas.h.i.+ng. "Will you obey me?"

"No--no--no," said Trevor, impatiently, and he tried to extricate himself. "Nurse, you are mad."

"Don't call me nurse," she cried, viciously. "Do as I bid you, or I'll make you rue it till your deathbed. But, no, I can't do that. Richard, you shall mind me--you shall obey me in this. I have a right to be minded."

"Mrs Lloyd, you have gone to the extent of your right, and beyond it; from henceforth you and your husband must find another home. You shall have a comfortable income, but this cannot go on. There, I cannot leave you in this way--come up to the house."

He tried to lead her, but she broke away.

"You will have it then?" she hissed, in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. "Richard, is this the way you treat your mother?"

"My--"

Trevor started back to the extent of their arms, looking at the woman aghast. The fancy that she was distraught had pa.s.sed away during the last few minutes, and there was such an air of decision and truth in her words and looks that he staggered beneath the shock. The past, her determined action, her opposition to his will--so different to the behaviour of a dependent, and explained at the time on the score of old service--and many little words and looks, notably her pa.s.sionate embrace on the night of the encounter in the study, all came back to him like a flash, and he could find no words for quite a minute.

"It's a lie!" he said at last. "Woman, how dare you? My father was too honourable a gentleman ever to descend to a low intrigue with one of his servants."

"Yes," said the woman, "and Martha Jane Lloyd was too good a wife to have listened to him if he had."

"Then," cried Trevor, in a fury, "how dare you say what you did?"

"Because, my boy, it is the truth. You are my flesh and blood."

"You are mad!" exclaimed Trevor. "Loose my wrist, woman, or I shall hurt you."

He looked sharply round, but there was no help at hand; for his first impulse was to tie her wrists, and have her carried to the house. But she prisoned one of his the tighter, by placing her other bony hand a little higher.

"_I'm_ not mad, Richard," she said, quietly; "and when you hear me, you will see that you must mind me; for, at a word from me, all your riches would be swept away, and you might change places with your keeper."

"Humphrey!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Richard, his brain in a whirl of doubt. "Tell me--what do you mean?"

"Only this," said the woman, hoa.r.s.ely. "That Mrs Trevor and I had sons almost together. Humphrey and you were the two boys. Do you understand?"

"No," said Richard, fiercely. "Go on."

"I got my sister, Dinah Price, from Caerwmlych to come and be nurse for both, for I was in the house--the maid Jane, as they called me then. Do you want to hear more?"

"Go on," said Richard, in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

"One day I sat thinking. There was death in the house, Richard, and I was wondering about the fixture--how hard it would be if my fine boy should grow up to poverty through the changes that might take place, and me perhaps sent away by a new mistress. I was jealous, too, of the Trevors' boy, petted and pampered and waited upon, while my darling had to take his chance. I tell you it made me nearly mad sometimes, for I was ill and weak; and I think the devil came and tempted me, knowing how I was."

"Go on," said Richard; for she stopped, and the great drops of sweat were standing on his brow.

"One day, boy, I felt that I could bear it no longer. Dinah had gone down to the kitchen to join the servants watching the funeral; and I sat thinking, when the Trevors' baby cried, and no one went. I had you on my knee, Richard, nursing you, and I went up, innocently enough, to quiet the motherless little bairn, and as I saw it lying alone there in its cradle, my heart yearned over the poor little thing, and I took it in my arms, when it nestled to my breast so pitifully, that I nursed it as I did you, and sat there with you both in my arms."

Her voice was very husky now; but her words came firmly, and bore the impress of truth.

"It was then, Richard, that the temptation came; for all at once, as I looked down upon you both, the thought came, and I s.h.i.+vered. Then all opened out before me--a bright life, wealth, position, a great future for the helpless babe I held; and I said why should it not be for my boy. I shrank from it for a moment, not more. Then it seemed so easy, so sure, that I did not hesitate. In two minutes you had on the little master's night-gown, and he wore yours; and I laid _you_, d.i.c.k--my boy-- my flesh and blood, in the cradle, and stole downstairs with theirs."

There was a faint rustle amongst the leaves overhead; but no one heeded, and the woman went on.

"As soon as I got down, s.h.i.+vering with fear, a sort of hysterical fit came over me, and I got worse; I grew so feverish that I had to lie down, and I was ill for weeks; but that pa.s.sed off, and the struggle began. Ah, Richard, boy, your poor mother bore it all for you--that you might be rich and happy, while she suffered the tortures of h.e.l.l; her heart yearning to take you to her heart, hearing you cry as she lay awake at nights with a stranger nursed at her breast. But that pa.s.sed off when you both grew bigger; and you know how I treated you after, as I saw you grow up. People said I was hard to Humphrey. Perhaps I was, but I was never hard to you; and many a night I've cried myself to sleep with joy, when I have found you loving and affectionate, soothing me for the jealous tortures I suffered because I could not call you mine. But I said 'no, there is no going back; you have made him, let it be.'"

"And Lloyd?" said Richard, hoa.r.s.ely--"did he know of this?"

"Yes, I told him, and he would have confessed; but he did not dare. My boy, when you spoke to me that night in your room--when for the first time for years I kissed you, I felt that I must tell you all."

"It's monstrous!" cried Richard, and his face looked ten years older.

"But, no; I won't believe it--it can't be true."