“Stop!” cried Valentine, all his suppressed excitability bursting bounds in an instant, as he took Mrs. Peckover by the arm, and pressed her back into her chair. “Stop!--hear me; I must speak, or I shall go out of my senses! Don’t interrupt me, Mrs. Peckover; and don’t get up. All I want to say is this: you must never take that little angel of a child near Jubber again--no, never! By heavens! if I thought he was likely to touch her any more, I should go mad, and murder him!--Let me alone, doctor! I beg Mrs. Joyce’s pardon for behaving like this; I’ll never do it again. Be quiet, all of you! I must take the child home with me--oh, Mrs. Peckover, don’t, don’t say no! I’ll make her as happy as the day is long. I’ve no child of my own: I’ll watch over her, and love her, and teach her all my life. I’ve got a poor, suffering, bedridden wife at home, who would think such a companion as little Mary the greatest blessing God could send her. My own dear, patient Lavvie! Oh, doctor, doctor! think how kind Lavvie would be to that afflicted little child; and try if you can’t make Mrs. Peckover consent. I can’t speak any more--I know I’m wrong to burst out in this way; and I beg all your pardons for it, I do indeed! Speak to her, doctor--pray speak to her directly, if you don’t want to make me miserable for the rest of my life!” With those words, Valentine darted precipitately into the garden, and made straight for the spot where the little girls were still sitting together in their shady resting-place among the trees. CHAPTER VI. MADONNA GOES TO LONDON. The clown’s wife had sat very pale and very quiet under the whole overwhelming torrent of Mr. Blyth’s apostrophes, exclamations, and entreaties. She seemed quite unable to speak, after he was fairly gone; and only looked round in a bewildered manner at the rector, with fear as well as amazement expressed vividly in her hearty, healthy face. “Pray compose yourself, Mrs. Peckover,” said Doctor Joyce; “and kindly give me your best attention to what I am about to say. Let me beg you, in the first place, to excuse Mr. Blyth’s odd behavior, which I see has startled and astonished you. But, however wildly he may talk, I assure you he means honorably and truthfully in all that he says. You will understand this better if you will let me temperately explain to you the proposal, which he has just made so abruptly and confusedly in his own words.” “Proposal, sir!” exclaimed Mrs. Peckover faintly, looking more frightened than ever--“Proposal! Oh, sir! you don’t mean to say that you’re going to ask me to part from little Mary?”