"But he must, for your sake. Oh, these men, these men!" "It is impossible," said Jenny, holding out her hand, "for we are going away." "Going away! Well, I am sorry. Ah, me! It's a sad world, and maybe I shall be gone away, too, before long. But you might come for a week. Why not to-morrow?" Jenny shook her head, and the visitor parted from her so affectionately that no further opposition was made to the basket's contents. CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. Jenny had not been seated alone many minutes after the carriage had driven off, dwelling excitedly upon her visitor's words respecting Kate's disappearance, when the front door was opened softly, and there was a tap on the panel of the room where she sat. "Who's there? Come in." "Only me," said a familiar voice, and, hunting whip in hand, Claud Wilton stood smiling in the doorway. "You!" cried Jenny, with flaming cheeks. "How dare you come here?" "Because I wanted to see you," he said. "Just met the mater, and she told me how bad you'd been, and that you talked about dying. I say, you know, none of that nonsense." "What is that to you, sir, if I did?" "Oh, lots," he said, twirling the lash of his whip as he stood looking at her. "If you were to pop off I should go and hang myself in the stable." "Go away from here directly. How dare you come?" cried Jenny, indignantly. "Because I love you. You made me, and you can't deny that." "Oh!" ejaculated the girl, as her cheeks flamed more hotly. "I can't help it now. I've been ever so miserable ever since I knew you were so bad; and when the old girl said what she did it regularly turned me over, and I was obliged to come. I say, I do love you, you know." "It is not love," she cried hotly; "it is an insult. Go away. My brother will be here directly." "I don't care for your brother," said the young man, sulkily. "I'm as good as he is. I wanted to see how bad you were." "Well, you've seen. I've been nearly dead with fever and pain, and it was all through you that night." "Yes, it was all through me, dear." "Silence, sir; how dare you!" "Because I love you, and 'pon my soul, I'd have been ten times as bad sooner than you should." "It is all false--a pack of cruel, wicked lies." "No, it ain't. I know I've told lots of lies to girls, but then they were only fools, and I've been a regular beast, Jenny, but I'm going to be all square now; am, 'pon my word. I didn't use to know what a real girl was in those days, but I've woke up now, and I'd do anything to please you. There, I feel sometimes as if I wish I were your dog." "Pah! Go and find your rich cousin, and tell her that." "--My rich cousin," he cried, hotly. "She's gone, and jolly go with her. I know I made up to her--the guv'nor wanted me to, for the sake of her tin--but I'm sick of the whole business, and I wouldn't marry her if she'd got a hundred and fifty millions instead of a hundred and fifty thousand."