"Let me speak to her for a moment, Jane Marks," he said. "Shoot the door." "No, no; I can't. I shall get into trouble," said the girl. "I've come to save you fro' trouble," said Tom. "Do as I tell you, quick. This is no time for stopping, when at any moment a mob of savage workmen may be ready to tear down the place." He pointed to the veiled figure as he spoke, and the girl drew back, while the strange visitor shrank to the wall. But only for a moment; the next she uttered a sob, and holding out her hands, she cried-- "Oh, Tom, Tom; did you know me?" "Know you," he said bitterly; "yes, I'd tell thee anywheers." "Wean't you tak' my hands?" she cried. "Niver again, lass, niver again." "Is this the way you meet me, then, Tom?" "Ay, lass. How would'st thou hev me meet thee? Why hev you comed here?" "Oh, Tom, I was i' Sheffle, and I met Big Harry. He told me such dreadful things about father." "I wonder he didn't tell thee the old man weer dead." "Oh, Tom, if you knew all," cried the girl. "Ay, lass, I know enew." "Tom, you don't--you can't know. But there, I can't stay. It's so dreadful. Let me go by." "No, Daisy," said the young man passionately. "You can't go by. I believe I hate thee now, but I can't leave thee. You must go wi' me." "Go with you--where?" cried the girl. "To your own home, where your poor broken-hearted mother's waiting for thee." "Oh, I shall go mad," exclaimed Daisy. "Tell me. Where is Mrs Glaire? Where is Mr Richard?" "You weak, silly girl," said Tom, catching her arm. "I knew it was so, though they said strange things about thee. Oh, Daisy," he said, piteously, as he sought to stay her, "leave him. Go home. Don't for thee own sake stop this how. You threw away my poor, rough love, and I've towd my sen ower and ower again that I hated thee, but I don't, Daisy. I'm only sorry for thee, I can't forget the past." He turned aside to hide the workings of his face. "How dare you speak to me like this?" cried Daisy. "You don't know me, Tom, or you would not. I'll go, I will not be so insulted, and by one who pretended so much." Then, moved by the young fellow's grief, she laid her hand upon his arm. "Tom," she said, softly, "you'll be sorry for this when you know all." "Don't touch me," cried Tom, passionately, as he shook her off. "I can't bide it, Daisy. I loved you once, but you threw me over for that bit of a butterfly of a thing." "Oh, this is too much, and at such a time," cried Daisy. "Here, Jane, Jane. Let me go by." "No," said Tom, catching her wrist, as she made for the interior of the house. "You shall not go to join him again. I'll tak' thee home to thy father." "Not yet, Tom, not yet. I'm not going to him. Here, Jane, Jane, quick. Where is Mr Richard?" she cried, as the maid came back. "Dal thee!" cried Tom, as he threw her arm savagely away. "This before me!" The girl looked at her and shook her head. "Where is Mrs Glaire or Miss Pelly?"