Thereby Hangs a Tale. Volume OneFenn, George Manville
General
Thereby Hangs a Tale. Volume One
Fenn, George Manville
Fiction
Polly shivered, went to her room, and came back, looking as pretty a
little rustic rosebud as could be seen for miles around.
"Ah," said Mrs Lloyd, hanging about her with a grim smile on her face,
to give a pull at a plait here, a brush at a fold there, and ending by
smoothing the girl's soft hair--"if he can resist that, he's no man."
"Please, aunt, what do you mean?" pleaded the girl. "Don't send me out
again."
"There are no captains about now, goose, are there?" said the
housekeeper, angrily.
"No, aunt, dear," faltered the girl; "but don't send me out. What do
you mean?"
"What do I mean?" exclaimed Mrs Lloyd; "as if you didn't know what I
mean. To raise the house of Lloyd, child--to make you mistress of
Penreife--"
"Oh, aunt!"
"Instead of letting you throw yourself away upon a common servant."
"Aunt--aunt, dear!" cried the girl, piteously.
But the woman stopped her.
"Not another word. Now, look here--do I speak plain?"
"Yes, aunt."
"Hush!--no crying. You are to be Mrs Richard Trevor, with a handsome
husband, and plenty of money. If you don't know what's good for you, I
do. Now go out for a walk; and when he meets you, if you don't smile on
him, and lead him on, I'll--I'll--There, I believe I shall poison you!"
The girl turned, shivering, from the fierce-looking face, as if
believing the threat, and hurried out of the house.
"If Humphrey don't take me away I shall go and drown myself," she cried,
with a sob. "Oh, it's dreadful! He will hate me for this, and if Mr
Richard sees me, what will he think!"
Poor Polly's life had been a very hard one. So accustomed was she to
blindly obey, that it never occurred to her that she might take any
other route than the one so often indicated by her aunt; and she went as
usual--ready to cry, but not daring, and thinking bitterly of her
position.
"If I had only been a man," she thought, "I'd run away to sea, and--here
he is."
"Ah, little maiden," exclaimed Trevor--for Mrs Lloyd had timed the
matter well--"why, how bright and pretty you look!"
"Please, sir, I'm very sorry," faltered the girl.
"Sorry! Why? Have you come out here," he continued, suspiciously, "to
meet Humphrey?"
"Please, sir--no, sir," said the girl, looking appealingly in his frank
face.
"Having a walk then, eh?"
"Please, sir, aunt sent me," said the girl.
"Polly, my little maid, I believe you are a good girl," said Trevor, his
face growing dark--"there, don't cry, I'm not angry with you. Speak
out, and trust me. You are not afraid of me?"
"Oh no, sir. Humphrey says you're so good and kind," said the girl.
"Thanks to Humphrey for his good opinion," said Trevor. "But, now, tell
me plainly, what does all this mean?"
"Please, sir, I dursen't," sobbed the girl.
"Nonsense, child! Tell me directly."
"Aunt would kill me," sobbed Polly.
"Stuff, child! Now, be a good, sensible little girl, and fancy I'm
Humphrey."
"Oh, sir--please, sir, I couldn't do that."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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