The Parson O' Dumford Part 18

"I don't know what you mean," he said, petulantly, as he gave the lamp-shade a twist, so that its light should not fall upon his face, and then changed his position a little.

"Yes, you do, Richard--perfectly," said Mrs Glaire. "I said just now that you were thinking of Daisy Banks."

"Yes, I heard you say so; and I said, I don't know what you mean."

An angry retort was upon Mrs Glaire's lips, but she checked the hasty expression, and pressing her hands a little more firmly upon her son's shoulders, she went on--

"You know perfectly well what I mean Richard, and I must speak to you about that, as well as about the business."

"Look here," exclaimed the young man, impatiently; "I'm tired and worried enough for one day. I'm going to bed."

He started up, crossed to the side table, took a candle, and advancing to the lamp, was about to light it with a taper, when, to his surprise, his mother, who of late years had given up to him in everything, took candle and taper from his hands and pressed him back unresisting into his seat.

"Richard, you are not going to bed till you have heard what I have to say."

"I tell you I'm worn out and worried!" he exclaimed.

"You were not too tired to go out and keep engagements," said Mrs Glaire, firmly.

"Who told you I had been out to keep engagements?" retorted Richard, sharply.

"My heart, Richard," said his mother. "I know as well as if I had seen you that you have been to-night to meet Daisy Banks."

"What stuff, mother!"

"As you have often been to meet her, Richard; tell me, do you wish to marry her?"

"I marry that hoyden--that workman's daughter! Mother, are you mad?"

"You are only a workman's son, sir."

"My father made me a gentleman, mother," said Richard, taking out a cigarette, "and I have the tastes of a gentleman. May I light this?"

"Smoke if you wish to, Richard," said Mrs Glaire, quietly. "I have never stood in your way when that was a just one."

Richard lit his cigarette, threw himself back in his chair with one leg over an arm, and said negligently--

"Well, if I am to be lectured, go on."

"I am not going to lecture you, my son," said Mrs Glaire, firmly; "I am only interposing when I see you hesitating on the brink of a precipice."

"Look here, mother," cried Richard; "do you want to quarrel?"

"No, Richard, to advise."

"Then don't talk stuff, mother."

"I shall not, Richard, neither shall I let you put me off in what I wish to say. I am going to speak to you about Joseph Banks' daughter, and about the business."

"Now, look here, mother," cried the young man, who, with all his desire to go, felt himself pinned down in his chair by a stronger will--"look here. What stuff have you got in your head about that little girl?"

"The stuff, as you call it, that is the common talk of the town."

"Oh, come, that's rich," cried Richard, with a forced laugh. "To keep me up here and scold me about the common talk of scandal-mad Dumford.

Mother, I thought you had more sense."

"And I, Richard, thought that you had more honour; that your father had brought you up as a gentleman; and that you really had the tastes of a gentleman."

"Come, I say, this is coming it too strong, you know, mother," said the young man, in a feeble kind of protestation. "It is too hard on a fellow: it is indeed, you know."

"Richard," continued Mrs Glaire, with her words growing more firm and deep as she proceeded, "I have had Daisy Banks in this house off and on for years, as the humble companion of Eve, who is shut out here from the society of girls of her own age. It was a foolish thing to do, perhaps, but I was confident in the honour and gentlemanly feeling of my son, the wealthiest and greatest man in Dumford--in the honour of my son who is engaged to be married to his second cousin, Eve Pelly, as good, pure-minded, and sweet a girl as ever lived."

"Oh, Eve's right enough," said Richard, roughly, "or she ought to be, for I'm sick of hearing her praises."

"A girl who loves you with her whole heart, and who only waits your wishes to endow you with the love and companions.h.i.+p that would make you a happy man to the end of your days."

"Oh yes," said Richard, yawning. "I know all about that."

"And what do I wake up to find?"

"Goodness knows, mother; some mare's nest or another."

"I wake up to find what Joseph Banks, our trusty old foreman, also wakes up to find."

"What!" roared Richard, thrown off his balance; "does he know?"

"Yes," said Mrs Glaire; "he, too, knows. Does that touch you home?"

"d.a.m.n!" muttered Richard, between his teeth.

"Yes, Banks too has woke up to the fact that you are frequently seen alone, and in a clandestine manner, with his only child; but he believes that you love her, that you, in spite of your position, remember that you are only a workman's son, and that you mean to marry a workman's daughter, and bring her home here as the wife of the master of Dumford Works."

"Confound it all!" muttered Richard, biting his nails.

"He smiles at the notion of your being engaged to Eve, for he believes you to be honourable and a gentleman, while I, your mother, am obliged to know that your designs are evil, that you plot the ruin of a poor, weak girl--I wake up, in short, to know that my son is behaving like a scoundrel."

"Hold your tongue!" cried Richard, hoa.r.s.ely; and leaping up, he took two or three turns backwards and forwards in the room, before throwing himself once more in his chair.

"But you've not spoken to Joe Banks?" he cried.

"I have, this morning," said Mrs Glaire, and then, her voice trembling, and the judgelike tone giving way to one of appeal, she threw herself at the young man's knees, clasping them with her arms, and then catching at and holding his hand. "d.i.c.k, my boy--my darling--I was obliged to speak--I _am_ obliged to speak to you. You know how, since you became of age, I have delivered everything into your hands--how I have kept back from interfering--how I have been proud to see the boy I brought into the world rich and powerful. You know I have never stood in the way, though you have poured out like water on your betting and gambling the money your father and I saved by dint of sc.r.a.ping and saving."

"Oh, that's it, is it?" said Richard, with a sneer.

"No," cried his mother, appealingly, "it is not, d.i.c.k, my boy; it is that I wish to make you see your danger before it is too late. You mad, infatuated boy, can you not see that by what you have done you have set all your workmen against you? You see how you are treated to-day!"

"Oh yes," said Richard; "and I've got the marks upon me."

"Who stood by you, faithfully and true, as he has always stood by our house in similar times of danger--danger not brought on by folly?-- Banks, your father's old fellow-workman--a man as true as steel."