Daisy Burns Volume I Part 5

I dropped his hand, and burst into tears. He looked pained; but his resolve did not alter.

"It cannot be helped," he said. "Good bye! I shall come and see you."

He held out his hand to me; but I felt forsaken and betrayed, and turned away resentfully. He bent over me.

"Will you not bid me good-bye?" he asked.

I flung my arms round his neck; and, sobbing bitterly, I exclaimed, "Oh!

why then won't you take me with you?" He did not answer, gave me a quiet kiss, untwined my arms from around his neck, exchanged a formal adieu with my grandfather, and left me as unconcernedly as if, little more than an hour before, he had not taken me in his arms, and cherished me in that lonely garden, where I, so foolishly mistaking pity for fondness, had given him an affection he evidently did not prize, and which, as I now began to feel, had no home save the grave of the dead.

CHAPTER IV.

When I heard the door close on Cornelius, my tears ceased; they had not moved him; they were useless; it was all over; my fate was fixed. I sat on a chair, drearily looking across the table, at my brown-faced, white- bearded grandfather, who raised his voice and called out impatiently, "Polly, Molly. Mary, Thing--where are you?" The little servant-girl answered this indiscriminate appeal by showing her full round face at the door. Mr. Thornton, resting both his hands on the table, slightly bent forward to say impressively, "That young man is never to be let in again,--do you understand?" She a.s.sented by nodding her head several times in rapid succession, then closed the door.

"But I will see Mr. O'Reilly," I exclaimed indignantly; for though he had forsaken me, I still looked up to him as to my protector and friend.

Mr. Thornton raised his eyebrows, and gave an ironical grunt. At the same moment the door again opened, and a lady, young, elegantly attired, and beautiful as the princess of a fairy tale, entered the room.

"Uncle," she began, but, on seeing me, she stopped short; then with evident wonder asked briefly. "Who is it?"

"Her name is Burns," was the short reply. The young lady looked at me, and nodded significantly. Mr. Thornton resumed, "I shall provide for her; in the meanwhile tell Mrs. Marks to take care of her, and keep her out of my way, until I have settled how she is to be disposed of." I felt very like a bale of useless goods.

"Then you will have the charity not to keep her here," observed the young lady with impatient bitterness.

"I shall have the charity not to let her become a fine lady like you, Edith," he sarcastically answered.

"Do you mean to make a governess of your grand-daughter, as you would of your niece if you could?"

"My dear, you forget my niece could not be a governess; and neither governess nor fine lady shall be this child, whom you are pleased to call my grand-daughter. A common-place education, some decent occupation,-- such is to be her destiny. And now be so good as to leave me."

"To your beetles!" she indignantly replied; "you don't care for anything but your beetles. I am sick of my life. I wish I were dead--I wish I had never seen this dreadful old hole."

"Pity you flirted with the intended of your cousin, my dear, and got packed off. Suppose you try and get married; I intend leaving England again, and it will be rather dull for you to stay here alone with Mrs.

Marks."

"I'll run away sooner."

"That's just what I mean. Elope, my dear, elope!"

"I won't eat any more!" she exclaimed, crimson with vexation and shame; "I know you don't believe it, but I won't."

"Then you'll die; I'll embalm you, and you'll make a lovely young mummy."

His little black eyes sparkled as if he rather relished the idea; but it was more than the beautiful Edith could stand, for she burst into tears, and calling her uncle "a barbarous tyrant," was flying out of the room in a rage, when he coolly summoned her back to say, "Edith, take it with you!"

By "it" he meant me. She took my hand and obeyed; her beautiful blue eyes flas.h.i.+ng resentfully, her bosom still heaving with indignant grief. But Mr. Thornton, heedless of her anger and sorrow, had resumed his magnifying gla.s.s, and was again intent on the beetle. When we both stood on the threshold of the door, Edith turned round to confront him, and said vindictively, "I wish there may never be another beetle,--there!"

With this she slammed the door, dropped my hand, turned to her left, and went up an old oak staircase, dimly lit by an iron lamp riveted to the wall. She once looked back to see that I followed her, but took no other notice of me. As she reached a wide landing, she met, coming down, a tall and thin old lady in black.

"Mrs. Marks," she said briefly, "you are to attend to this child."

Without another word or look she continued her ascent. Mrs. Marks looked down at me from the landing, as I stood on the staircase a few steps below her; then up at the light figure of Edith ascending the next flight, and indignantly muttering "that she had never"--the rest did not reach me--she majestically signed me to approach. I obeyed. She eyed me from head to foot, but did not seem much enlightened by the survey. "That is the way up," she said at length, pointing with a long fore-finger to the staircase. The explanation seemed to me a very needless one, but I followed her upstairs silently. We went up until I thought we should never stop, though the ceiling becoming lower with every flight we ascended, indicated that we were approaching the highest regions of the house. I felt tired, but Mrs. Marks went on steadily, as if the tower of Babel would not have daunted her. At length she came to a pause. We had reached a low irregular corridor, that seemed to run round the whole house, and was garnished with numerous doors. Before one of these Mrs.

Marks made a dead stop. She unlocked it, held it open by main force, as far as its rusty hinges would allow, then looking round at me, said, emphatically--

"That is the way in."

I hesitated, then slid in; Mrs. Marks slid in after me, then let go the door, which of its own accord closed with a snap, locking us in a small, snug room, with thick curtains, closely drawn, a warm carpet on the floor, a bright fire burning in the grate, a kettle singing on the hob, a cat purring on the hearth rug, a chair of inviting depth awaiting its tenant by the fireside, and near it a small table with tray and tea- things.

"Sit down," said Mrs. Marks, pointing to a chair.

I obeyed. She went to the fireplace, and planting herself on the rug, with her hands gathering her skirts in front, and her back to the fire, she thence surveyed me with an attentive stare. Pa.s.sed from Miss Murray to Cornelius,--from him to Mr. Thornton,--from Mr. Thornton to his niece,--and from her to Mrs. Marks, I felt more apathetic than ever; but Mrs. Marks stood exactly opposite me; I could not help seeing her. She was a gaunt, tall woman, with a pale face and fixed eyes, that made her look like her own portrait. They were eclipsed by a pair of bright black pins, which projected from her cap on either side, and held some mysterious connection with her front. She wore a robe of rusty black, that fitted tight to the figure, and was not over-ample in the skirt.

After a long contemplation, she uttered a solemn "I shall see," then left the room. The door snapped after her; I remained alone with the cat, which, like every creature in that house, seemed to care nothing for me, but went on purring with half-shut eyes.

Its mistress soon returned, settled herself in her arm-chair, and thence seemed inclined to survey me again; but the contemplation was disturbed by a tap at the door.

"Come in, Mrs. Digby; don't be afraid of the door," encouragingly said Mrs. Marks.

Mrs. Digby was probably nervous, for she made several feeble attempts to introduce her person,--as suddenly darting back again,--before she gathered sufficient courage to accomplish the delicate operation.

"Gracious! I never saw such a door!" she then observed; "I wonder you can keep such a creature, Mrs. Marks."

"It has its good points," philosophically replied Mrs. Marks; "it is safer than a lock, and, like a dog, won't bite unless you are afraid of it. But if you dally with it, Mrs. Digby, why it may give you a snap!"

"Gracious!" exclaimed Mrs. Digby, looking horrified; "how can you live up here, Mrs. Marks?"

"The rooms below are gloomy, and have no prospect; whereas here I sit by the window, look over the whole grounds, and, if I see anything wrong, I just touch this string,--then a bell rings,--and Richard at the lodge is warned."

"Well," dismally observed Mrs. Digby, "I dare say that is very pleasant; but I have enough of old castles, Mrs. Marks."

"This is not a castle."

"They read like such dear horrid old places, that I was quite delighted when Miss Grainger said to me the other day, 'Digby, we are going to uncle Thornton's!' I did not know they smelt more mouldy than any cheese, and that there was no sleeping with the rats."

"Yes, the little things will trot about, spite of the cat; but then one must live and let live, Mrs. Digby."

"Don't say one must let rats live, Mrs. Marks, don't! they are almost as bad as Mr. Thornton's horrid things,--only they are stuffed."

"Mr. Thornton is a learned man," sententiously replied Mrs. Marks; "but I do think he gives so much attention to natural history and entomology.

Mr. Marks thought nothing of entomology, he was all for chemistry; that's the science, Mrs. Digby!"

"Didn't it blow him up?"

"Blow him up! Was Mr. Marks a gunpowder-mill, Mrs. Digby? He perished in making a scientific experiment; you will, I trust, soon learn the difference. A man of Mr. Thornton's immense mind cannot but sicken of entomology, and return to chemistry. You will not see much, but you will hear reports--"

"Gracious!" interrupted Mrs. Digby, with an alarmed air, "I wish I were out of the place."

"Then help your handsome young lady to get a husband," sneered Mrs. Marks from the depths of her arm-chair.