Thereby Hangs a Tale Part 73

"I don't care," said Pratt, vehemently; and he arranged an imaginary wig, and waved some non-existent papers in the air. "Matters may be against my client--I mean d.i.c.k; but I'll stake my life on his honour. I say Richard Trevor--Lloyd, as he calls himself now--is a true man of honour. Look how he gave up the estate! See how he yielded his pretensions to Miss Rea's hand! And do you dare to tell me that this is a man who would stoop to a flirtation, or worse, when he owns to being cut up by the loss he has sustained? I say it's impossible, and that the person who would dare to charge my cli--friend, Richard Trevor, alias Lloyd, with such duplicity is--"

"What?" said Fin, sharply. That one little word went through Frank Pratt. He cooled on the instant, the flush of excitement pa.s.sed away, and, in a crestfallen manner, he groaned--

"That's just like me. What a fool I am! Now you'll be cross with me."

"No, I shan't," said Fin, demurely. "I like it. It's nice of you to stand up for your friend. I like a man to be a trump."

Fin's face was like scarlet as soon as she made this admission; and to qualify it, she hurriedly exclaimed--

"You may like him if you please; but till I see him cleared I shall hate him bitterly; and--and--and--I don't know how he ought to be punished.

He'll be punished enough, though, by losing my sweet sister. Why didn't you like her, instead of some one else?" she said, archly.

"Don't ask me," said Pratt. "I'm so happy, I shall do something foolish."

"You haven't anything to be happy about," said Fin; "for I'm going to devote myself to Tiny, and if they force her into this hateful marriage, I mean to be a nun."

"What marriage?" said Pratt.

"Why, with that Bluebeard of a captain."

"And are they pus.h.i.+ng that on?"

"Yes," said Fin, "and it's abominable. It will kill her."

"No, it won't!" said Pratt, coolly.

"Then you're a wretch!" said Fin, with flas.h.i.+ng eyes. "I say it will."

"And I say it won't," said Pratt; "because it must never come off."

Fin stared at him.

"I'll see to that," said Pratt, confidently. "I have a friend busy about Master Captain Vanleigh. But, oh!" he exclaimed, as the recollection of one Barnard, solicitor, brought up a gentleman of the name of Mervyn--"but, oh! I say, tell me this, Fin--Mr Mervyn--you know--there wasn't ever--anything--eh?"

"Oh, you goose!" cried Fin, stamping her foot. "Mr Mervyn--dear Mr Mervyn, of all people in the world!--who used to treat us like as if we were his little girls. Oh, Mr Pratt, I did think you had some sense in your head."

"Oh no," said Pratt, solemnly; "never--not a morsel."

Then they looked at one another, and laughed; but only for Fin to turn preternaturally serious.

"I must go back to Tiny now," she said.

"But when shall I see you again?" urged Pratt.

"Perhaps never," said Fin--"unless you can come about once a week, on a Friday afternoon, here in the square, and tell me some news that will do poor Tiny good."

"I may come and say good-bye to her, then?" said Pratt, getting hold for a moment of the little half-withdrawn hand.

"Yes, if you like. No--here's Aunt Matty."

In fact her herald approached in the shape of Pepine, who no sooner caught sight of the retreating form of Pratt, than he made a dash at him, chasing him ignominiously to the gate, where he stood barking long after his quarry had gone. But Pepine was no gainer in the end, for during the next week Fin never neglected an opportunity of administering to him a furtive thump.

Volume 3, Chapter XII.

NETTA'S APPEAL.

Richard felt very bitter as he followed Mrs Jenkles across the road.

Mingled with pity for the poor girl he was about to visit, there was a sense of resentment; for she seemed to have been the cause of pain and sorrow to one he dearly loved. And yet, how innocent and gentle she was--how unlike any one he had met before! Pity may or may not be akin to love, but certainly it was very strong in Richard's breast at the present moment.

"If you'll step in the kitchen just a moment, sir, I'll see if you can go up," said Mrs Jenkles, smoothing her ap.r.o.n.

She ushered the visitor into the clean, bright place, where Sam was seated by the fireside, looking very hard at his pipe.

"How do, sir, how do?" he said. "Take a cheer, sir."

"Thanks, no, Sam, I'll stand," said Richard, quietly. "But where's your pipe?"

"There it hangs, sir," said Sam, folding his arms and looking at it.

"No tobacco?"

"Plenty, sir," said Sam; "but I've put the pipe out at home, sir: cos why? It sets that poor gal a-coughing, and that spoils it. It's a wonder, aint it, as doctors can't do more?"

Further converse was cut short by the entrance of Mrs Jenkles, who beckoned their visitor to come, and he followed her upstairs to the neat little front room, where a pang shot through Richard as he saw the change. Netta was half lying on a couch, propped up by pillows, and beside her, on a table, were the two plants he had sent across, evidently carefully tended,--not a withered leaf to be seen amongst their luxuriant foliage, while she who had made them her care lay there, white, shrunken, and so changed.

There was a bright smile of pleasure flickering about her lips, and a ray of gladness flas.h.i.+ng from her eyes, as she held out her hands to him--hands that he caught in his and kissed, as he sank on his knees by her side.

"My poor girl!" he exclaimed, huskily, "is it so bad as this?"

"I'm so glad you are come," she whispered; and then she lay gazing at him, as if her very soul were pa.s.sing from her eyes to his. "I've longed and prayed so for this. I thought once that it wasn't to be-- that I was never to see you again; but I'm better now."

"Better--yes; and you'll soon grow strong and well again."

"Do you think so?" she said, looking at him wistfully, while an incredulous smile was upon her lips. "But don't let's talk of that.

Sit down by me, where I can see you--I've so much to say."

He drew a chair to her side, and, as he did so, he saw that they were alone, for Mrs Lane had gone out softly directly he had entered. Then sitting down, the note which he had received fell from his pocket, and lay half beneath the couch.

"You are not angry with me for sending for you?" said the girl, piteously. "Why do you frown?"

"Did I frown?" he said, gently. "It was only a pa.s.sing thought. There, now, let's have a quiet, long chat."

"Yes," she said, eagerly. "I want to thank you for being so kind to us--for the fruit and flowers, and all you have done for mamma. As for me," she continued, laying her hand in his, "I shall be so ungrateful."

"No, no, I cannot believe that."

"Yes," she said, smiling, "you have done so much to make me well, and in return I shall die."