Miles Tremenhere: A Novel. Vol. 1 of 2Maillard, Annette Marie
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Miles Tremenhere: A Novel. Vol. 1 of 2
Maillard, Annette Marie
English fiction
Juvenal stopped suddenly, and stared at her; then, turning round, walked
silently to the window and fastened it. His hand was stretched towards
the cupboard door, when a sharp clanging sound on the floor startled
him--he was any thing but brave; and the hour, the half-lighted room,
and assuredly not least, the cup of green tea, made him nervous. He
sprang round, "What was that?" he cried.
"I heard nothing," she responded sulkily; now her first alarm had a
little subsided, a sort of dogged restlessness succeeded. Juvenal looked
on the floor, but so superficially that he did not notice a key which
had fallen from his pocket. "Come along!" he said, forgetting the
cupboard, "let us search the house--stop," he cried, putting his hand in
his pocket; "what have I done with the key of Miss Minnie's room? Oh!
here it is," and he took one from the table. "I just peeped in as I came
down--all was quite silent and secure there."
"That's my key, master!" exclaimed Mrs. Gillett.
"I beg your pardon, Gillett, I put it out of my hand when I came in,"
and he pocketed it; and, a little better than the last one, which had
hung in the orifice, and thus fell out--Mrs. Gillett felt more
reconciled now the window was fastened; so leaving her light, and
following Juvenal, she quitted the room, locking the door carefully
after her, and withdrawing the key. As she did so, the cupboard door
opened, and Miles and his terrified companion stepped out.
"Minnie," he said "reckon to me to-night all the degradation I have
felt; obliged to hide, for your sake, and that good woman's, like a
thief. I am indeed thankful to Heaven that he did not find me--it would
have crushed my heart."
"I will weigh it against my affection, dear Miles," she said, "and you
will forget it."
"What could he mean," he asked, suddenly, "by speaking of your journey
to Lancashire? Surely no such project is in view?"
"I have not heard of it, Miles; it must be one of my uncle's sudden
fancies. He is always starting some unformed idea--oh! that could never
be intended!" and involuntarily she clung to him with dread.
"May his good angel keep him from such thoughts, Minnie, dearest; for if
he should seriously intend, then I will answer for no good resolution of
mine resisting against so much wrong."
"What do you mean, Miles? Don't look so stern--you terrify me."
"Poor child!" he said tenderly, drawing her to a seat, "how you tremble.
In truth, Minnie, our love has been set in sorrow--grown in care; well,
it will be the stronger for it. Flowers are soon uprooted, weeds
tenacious, and difficult to tear from the earth. Minnie, have you
thought what we should do, if all gentle measures failed?"
"I have not dared to do so," she whispered.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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