My Pretty Maid; or, Liane Lester — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
My Pretty Maid; or, Liane Lester
John Stuart Mill · en
"Perhaps Dolly Dorr will make him fall in love with her, she is so
pretty, with her fluffy yellow hair and big torquoise-blue eyes," she
thought, with a curious sensation of deadly pain, jealous already,
though she guessed it not.
The night was still and calm, and suddenly the dip of oars in the water
came to her ears. She looked, and saw a little boat headed for the
beach, with a single occupant.
The keel grated on the shore, the man sprang out, and came directly
toward her, pausing with hat in hand--a tall fellow, dark and
bewhiskered, with somber, dark eyes.
"Ah, good evening, my pretty maid. Taking a stroll all alone, eh? Won't
you have a moonlight row with me?"
"No, thank you, sir; I am in a hurry to get home. Please stand aside,"
for he had placed himself in her way.
"Not so fast, pretty maid. It is good manners, I trow, to answer a
stranger's courteous questions, is it not?" still barring her way.
"Well, show me the way to Cliffdene."
The trembling girl pointed mutely back the way she had come.
"Thank you--and again: Do you know Miss Roma Clarke?"
"I have just seen her at Cliffdene," she answered.
"So she is not married yet?"
"Oh, no," Liane answered, trying to pass, but he caught her hand,
exclaiming mockingly:
"Not married yet? Well, that is very good news to me. I will give you a
kiss, pretty one, for that information."
"You shall not! Release me at once, you hound!" cried the girl,
struggling to free herself.
But the insolent stranger only clasped her closer and drew her to him,
the fumes of his liquor-laden breath floating over her pure brow as he
struggled to kiss her shrieking lips.
And, absorbed in the conflict, neither one noticed a third person
coming toward them from the town--an exceedingly handsome young man,
who hurried his steps in time to comprehend the meaning of the scene
before him, and then shot out an athletic arm, and promptly bowled the
wretch over upon the wet sands.
"Lie there, you cur, till I give you leave to rise!" he thundered,
planting his foot on the fellow's chest while he turned toward the
young lady.
"Why, good heavens! Is it you, Miss Lester?" he cried, in wonder.
"Yes, Mr. Devereaux. I was hurrying home from an errand to Cliffdene
when this man jumped out of his boat, and threatened to kiss me."
"Apologize to the lady on your knees, cur!" cried Jesse Devereaux,
helping him with a hand on his coat collar.
The wretch obeyed in craven fear.
"Now tell me where you came from in the boat."
"From the nearest town," sullenly.
"Then get into that boat and go back to it as fast as you can row, and
if you are ever caught in Stonecliff again, I promise to thrash you
within an inch of your life."
The defeated bully obeyed in craven silence, but the gleam of his
somber eyes boded no good to the man who had so coolly mastered him.