Lost Sir Massingberd: A Romance of Real Life. v. 1/2Payn, James
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Lost Sir Massingberd: A Romance of Real Life. v. 1/2
Payn, James
Detective and mystery stories; Fiction
"'You shall have but little to thank heaven for, girl, if this be true,'
cried her husband hoarse with concentrated rage; 'somebody shall pay for
this.'
"'It <i>is</i> true,' quoth my father, 'and you feel it to be so. Nothing
remains, then, but to make the best of it. We do not seek anything at
your hands, nor--'
"'Only the right of camping undisturbed about Fairburn,' interposed my
uncle Morris, who was of a grasping disposition, and had planned the
whole matter, I fear, not without an eye to the advantage of his tribe.
'You wouldn't treat your wife's family as trespassers.'
"'Certainly not,' returned Massingberd Heath, with bitterness; 'they
shall be most welcome. I should be extremely sorry if they were to
leave my neighbourhood just yet. In the meantime, however, I want my
wife--my Wife. Come along with me, my pretty one.'
"He looked like a wild beast, within springing distance of his prey.
"'Oh, father, uncle, defend me!' cried the miserable girl. 'What have
you done to bring this man's vengeance upon me?'
"'Ay, you are right there!' answered her husband, in a voice that froze
my veins. 'That is still left for me--vengeance. Come along, I say; I
hunger until it shall begin.'
"'Massingberd Heath,' cried I, throwing myself at his feet, 'for God's
sake have mercy upon her; it is not her fault. She knew no more than you
of all these things. Look how ill and pale she is--you above all men
should have pity on her wretched condition. Oh leave her with us, leave
my little sister here, and neither she nor we will ever trouble you,
ever come near you. It shall be just the same as though you had never
set eyes upon us; it shall indeed! Oh, you would not, <i>could</i> not surely
be cruel to such a one as she.'
"I pointed to her as she stood clinging to her father's arm as much for
support as in appeal, so beautiful, so pitiful, so weak; a spectacle to
move a heart of stone.
"'Could I not be cruel,' returned he, with a grating laugh, 'ay, to even
such a one as she? Ask <i>her</i>--ask <i>her</i>.'
"There was no occasion to put the question; you saw the answer in her
shrinking form, her trembling limbs: his every word fell upon her like a
blow.
"'She has not yet known, however, what I can be to my <i>Wife</i>,' continued
he. 'Come, my pretty one, come.'
"'She shall not,' cried my father, vehemently; 'it shall never be in
his power to hurt her.'
"'What! and I her husband?' exclaimed the other, mockingly. 'Both one
until death us do part! Not come?'
"'He will kill her,' murmured my father; 'her blood will be on my head.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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