The Parson O' Dumford Part 59

"I have had endless communications with the locked-out men, and, as far as I can judge character, I find them very rough, very independent, but, at the same time, frank and honest, and I cannot find one amongst them who does not look me full in the face with a clear unblus.h.i.+ng eye, and say, 'Parson, if I know'd who did that dirty sneaking business, I'd half kill him.' This in these or similar words."

Mrs Glaire bowed her head.

"Yes," she said; "you have given the men's character in those words, but they are cruelly bitter against my son."

"They are," said the vicar, hesitating to tell his news.

"And they think he has persuaded Daisy Banks to leave her home."

"Almost to a man, though her father holds out."

"Joe Banks always will be staunch," said Mrs Glaire. "And you think with the men about that, Mr Selwood?"

"I would rather not answer that question," he said.

"Then we will not discuss it," she replied rather hotly. "But you came to bring me some tidings, Mr Selwood," she continued, holding out her hand. "Forgive me if I feel as a mother, and defend my son."

"I am here to defend him too," said the vicar, taking and kissing the hand extended to him; and as he did so the door softly opened, and Eve glided into the room, to half shrink back and retire; but on hearing the vicar's words she sank into a seat as if unnerved, and the conversation went on.

"Tell me now, what is the danger?" said Mrs Glaire.

"It is this," said the vicar; "I am firmly persuaded that this house is a sanctuary, and that for the sake of yourself and your niece, Mr Richard Glaire is safe so long as he stays here."

"And he will stay here till I can bring him to reason about these people. I would pay the money he demands at once, but he insists that it shall be the hard earnings of his workmen themselves, and I am powerless."

"I am willing to lend the men the amount myself, but they will not take it, and I am afraid it would not be received if its source were known."

"No," said Mrs Glaire, "you must not pay it. My son would never forgive you. But go on."

"I repeat," said the vicar, "that your son is safe while he remains here."

"And I say that he shall stay," said Mrs Glaire sharply. "He shall not leave. He has no intention of leaving."

"He has made up his mind, it seems, to leave by the mail-train to-night," said the vicar; and as the words left his lips, and Mrs Glaire started into a sitting position, a faint cry behind made them turn round, and the vicar had just time to catch Eve in his arms, as she was gliding to the floor.

"Poor child!" he muttered, as he held her reverently, and then placed her in a reclining chair, while a shadow of pain pa.s.sed across his face, as he felt for whom this display of trouble and suffering was caused.

"It is nothing, nothing, Mr Selwood--aunt," faltered Eve, fighting bravely to over come her weakness; "but, aunt, you will not let him go.

Mr Selwood, you will not let him be hurt."

"No, my child, no," he said sadly, "not if my arm can save him."

"Thank you; I knew you would say so, you are so brave and strong," she cried, kissing his hand; and as her lips touched the firm, starting veins, a strange hot thrill of excitement pa.s.sed through his nerves, but only to be quenched by the bitter flood of misery that succeeded it; and then, making a mighty effort over self, he turned to Mrs Glaire, who was speaking:

"But are you sure--do you think it is true?" she exclaimed.

"I believe it," he said quietly; "and it is absolutely necessary that he should on no pretence leave the house."

"And who says I am to be a prisoner?" asked Richard, entering the room.

"I, for one," said the vicar, "if you value your safety, I may say your life."

"And by what right do you come meddling again with my private affairs?"

said Richard, offensively.

"The right of every man who sees his neighbour's life in danger to come and warn him."

"Then don't warn me," said Richard; "I don't want warning. It's all rubbish."

"It is no rubbish that a certain party of the men are holding meetings and threatening to injure you," said the vicar, rather warmly.

"Bah! they're always doing that, and it don't frighten me," said Richard, coa.r.s.ely.

"Then you were not going, Richard?" said his mother, eagerly. "You were not thinking of being so mad?"

"Going? no; not I," said Richard, "though I don't see anything mad in it."

Eve gave a sigh of relief, which sounded like a knell to the vicar, who, however, said frankly:

"I am very glad, then, that I have been deceived."

"And," said Richard, sneeringly, "next time you hear a c.o.c.k-and-bull story about me, perhaps you will keep it to yourself, sir, and leave me to go my ways in peace."

"Richard!" exclaimed Mrs Glaire, while, with a flush of shame upon her face, Eve rose and hastily placed her hand in the vicar's, saying softly:

"Oh, Mr Selwood."

Only those three words, but they were balm to him, as he pressed the soft little hand, and raised it to his lips, while, stung by this display, Richard started forward to make some offensive observation, but the door opened, and the maid appeared.

"Well, what is it?" cried Richard. "Why didn't you knock?"

"I did, sir," said the girl, "but you didn't hear. Jacky Budd says, sir, he can't carry your portmantle across the close because of the stiles, and he must take it to the station in a barrow."

"In time for the mail-train, Mr Glaire?" said the vicar, in spite of himself, though, for Eve's sake, he regretted it afterwards.

"d.a.m.n!" snarled Richard. "No,--go away. Such fools."

He ground his teeth and stamped about the room, while Mrs Glaire's eyes sought those of the vicar, and in her apologetic look he read plainly enough the mother's shame for the graceless boy she had brought into the world.

The look of triumph pa.s.sed from his countenance as rapidly as it had come, as he caught a glance of sorrow and appeal from Eve, which seemed to say, "Forgive him, and save him against himself."

"You will give up all thought of going now, Mr Glaire," he said, quietly. "Of course you wished to keep your departure a secret; but you see the intelligence reached me, and is now perhaps the property of the whole town."

"Through you?" said Richard, recovering himself, and speaking with a cunning sneer upon his face.

"This is no time for sneers, Mr Glaire," said the vicar, calmly. "The information was brought to me direct from the meeting."

"By one of your spies?"