The Parson O' Dumford Part 36

He had been about to say, "for your sake," but a glance at the sweet, candid face arrested his words, and he told himself that anything that would in the slightest degree tend to disturb her pure faith and belief in the man who was to be her husband would be cruelty, for there was the hope that her gentle winning ways and innocent heart would be the means of influencing Richard Glaire, and making him a better man.

"Hallo, you two!" made them start, as Richard leaped over the stile, and seemed surprised to find that neither of them looked startled or troubled at his sudden apparition. "Here, Eve, take my arm. I'm going home."

"Thank you, d.i.c.k," she said, quietly. "I have something to carry."

He scowled and relapsed into a moody silence, which no efforts on the vicar's part could break. Fortunately, the distance back to the town was very short, and so he parted from them at the foot of the High street, the rest of the distance being occupied by Richard in a torrent of abuse of Eve, and invectives against the vicar, whom he characterised as a beggarly meddling upstart, and ended by sending the girl up to her room in tears.

Volume 2, Chapter II.

AN EVENTFUL WALK.

Richard Glaire made the most of his short time for scolding, and sulked to a great extent with his cousin for the next few days, and then the tables were turned, for it came to pa.s.s one evening that all being bright and as beautiful without, as it was dull and cheerless within, Eve proposed to her aunt that they should take a walk as far as Ranby Wood.

"Do you expect to meet Mr Selwood, Eve?" said Mrs Glaire, rather bitterly.

The bitterness, was, however, unnoticed by Eve, who replied quietly--

"Oh no, aunt dear. I don't think there is the slightest chance of that; for don't you remember he said he was going to dine with Doctor Purley?"

"To be sure, yes; I had forgotten," said Mrs Glaire, somewhat relieved; though had she been asked she would have been puzzled to say why.

The result was that they started, leaving the town, crossing the little hill, and reaching the pleasant paths of the wood where the lichened trunks of the old oak trees were turned to russet gold in the setting suns.h.i.+ne, and all above seemed so peaceful and beautiful that the tears rose to Mrs Glaire's eyes, and she sat down upon a fallen trunk, thinking of how beautiful the world was, and how it was marred by man, through whom came the major part of the troubles that annoyed them.

"What's that?" she exclaimed, hastily, as voices in angry contention approached.

"I don't know, aunt," said Eve, half rising in alarm. "Let's go."

"No one will interfere with us, child," said Mrs Glaire, restraining her. "It's Squire Gray's keeper and young Maine," she continued. "Why are they quarrelling?"

"I think I know, aunt," said Eve, in an agitated voice. "Oh, surely they don't mean to fight. It is about Jessie Bult.i.tude: for Brough, the keeper, is always going to the farm with excuses, and it annoys John Maine."

It was very evident, though, that they were going to fight, for just then the keeper, a great black-whiskered fellow in velveteens and gaiters, exclaimed--

"Well, look here, I'll show you whether you've a raight to come across here. I 'ain't forgot about the rabbits."

As he spoke he began to strip off his coat, and his companion, a rather good-looking young fellow, whose face was flushed with pa.s.sion, seemed disposed to imitate his example, when he caught sight of the ladies, and turned of a deeper red.

The keeper too resumed his coat, and whistling to his black retriever, who had been showing his teeth, and seemed disposed to join in the fray, he turned off into a side path and disappeared.

"Oh, John Maine!" exclaimed Eve, reproachfully, "what would Jessie think if she saw you quarrelling with that man?"

"Beg pardon, Miss, I'm sure," said the young man, pulling off his felt hat. "It was no seeking of mine. He's always trying to pick a quarrel with me. He is, indeed, Mrs Glaire; and he won't be happy till he's been well thrashed. But hadn't you ladies--I mean--I beg your pardon, Miss Eve--hadn't you better go back out of the wood?"

"No, thank you, John," said Eve, smiling at the young man's confusion.

"We have only just come."

"But it is getting damp, Miss," said the young fellow, who was foreman at Bult.i.tude's farm.

"You didn't think it was damp the other night, John, when you were up here in the wood with Jessie."

"No, Miss, very true," said the young man; "but perhaps Thomas Brough will come back."

"Then," said Mrs Glaire, quietly, "I should advise you to go back home at once, John."

"Well, if you will have it, you will," muttered the young man. "I did my best to stop it;" and with a rough salutation he went on his way.

"Eve, my dear, I should not go too often to Bult.i.tude's," said Mrs Glaire. "Jessie is very well, but she is rather below the station you are to take, and--quick--here, come away--this way."

She started up, and tried to drag Eve away, but she was too late; and her efforts to prevent the scene down the glade before them being seen by her young companion were in vain. For there, plainly visible in the golden glow, and framed as it were in the bower-like hazels, stood, with their backs to them, Richard Glaire and Daisy Banks.

The young couple were as motionless as those who gazed, for in an impetuous angry way, Eve had s.n.a.t.c.hed herself free, and stood looking down the glade, while Mrs Glaire seemed petrified.

The next moment though, just as she was about to whisper hastily to Eve something about an accidental meeting, they saw Richard pa.s.s his arm round Daisy, who, nothing loth, allowed the embrace, and then as his lips sought hers, she threw her arms round his neck and responded to his caress.

It was a long cooing kiss, and it might have been longer, but as Richard Glaire drew Daisy closer to him, he slightly changed his position, and raising his eyes from the pretty flushed face he saw that they were observed, and started back with an oath.

Daisy turned wonderingly, and then, seeing who was watching them, she uttered a faint cry, and ran off swiftly down the mossy pathway, while, after hesitating whether he should follow her or not, and with a red spot of shame burning in each cheek, d.i.c.k took out his case, chose a cigar, nibbled off the end with an affectation of nonchalance, and striking a light, began to smoke.

"I shan't turn tail," he muttered. "I'm my own master, and I shall face it out."

"Oh aunt, aunt, aunt!" moaned Eve; "is that true?"

"True! yes," exclaimed Mrs Glaire, in a low, angry voice.

"But d.i.c.k cannot--Oh aunt, aunt, take me home--take me home."

Poor Eve turned aside, sobbing bitterly, and covered her face with her hands to hide the hateful sight; but in vain, for there, as it were, standing out clear and bright before her, was Daisy Banks, with her soft, round little face and pouting lips, turned up to receive Richard Glaire's kisses; and to her it seemed so horrible, so impossible, that she could not believe it true. It came upon her like a sudden shock, and she was stunned; for with all Richard's ill-humour and extravagance, she could never believe him anything but true and honourable, and in her simple, trusting way, she asked herself if it was possible that there was a mistake.

"Give me your hand, child," said Mrs Glaire, in a low, constrained voice; and catching that of Eve, with almost angry force; she led her on to where her son leaned nonchalantly against a tree, watching their coming.

The wood was now flooded with the rich golden sunset light, and every leaf and twig seemed turned to ruddy gold, while d.i.c.k, her young hero, the man she loved, and who was to be her husband, seemed to Eve, seen through a veil of tears, more handsome than ever she had seen him before.

And he did not love her! His love was given to Daisy Banks! Oh, no, she told herself; it was not true--it was some mistake; and with her breath coming in sobs, and her heart beating rapidly, she clung to her aunt's hand as they approached.

Mrs Glaire stopped short when they reached the tree, and speaking in a very cold, contemptuous way, she raised her one hand at liberty, and pointing in the direction in which one of the two actors in the little comedy had fled, she said--

"Is this my son Richard?"

"No," said d.i.c.k, with a forced laugh, and with a display of effrontery far from in keeping with his abject looks, "No--that was Daisy Banks."

"I say, is this my son?" exclaimed Mrs Glaire, speaking in the same cold measured way.

"I suppose so," said d.i.c.k, contemptuously. "There, don't make a bother out here in the wood;" and he half-turned away to gaze up towards where a thrush was loudly singing its farewell to the day.

"I say is this my son?" reiterated Mrs Glaire, "who promised me upon his word of honour as a gentleman that he would see Daisy Banks no more."

"Oh aunt," cried Eve, with almost a shriek of pain, as these words were to her like the lifting of a veil, "did you know of this?"

"Yes," said Mrs Glaire, sternly, "I knew, my child, that he was playing false to you, and that he was often seeing this miserable girl."