Volume Ii Part 20 (1/2)

”Have any letters come for me?” asked Phoebe.

”None,” replied her father. ”Your precious friends have forgotten you.

Now that they are convinced they cannot wring any money out of me, they will have nothing more to do with you.”

She did not tell him that she knew he was guilty of an untruth. She had the firmest belief in her aunt's constancy, and this, to some extent, was a comfort to her; but the pain and the grief that lay in silence were very bitter. She never ceased thinking of her lover; that was the keenest torture of all. For when weeks had pa.s.sed in this way she argued with herself, how could any young man, how could even Fred, be faithful to one who was as dead to him? Perhaps the greatest terror she experienced during these unhappy weeks arose out of a dream. She dreamt that her father was dead, and she woke up with a strange feeling of ease. Would she, then, rejoice in his death? ”Am I growing wicked and revengeful?” she asked of herself, in the silence of the night. ”Cruel as he is, he is still my father. Send death to me, and end this misery!”

It was a prayer to G.o.d, and as she grew daily weaker and thinner it seemed as if her prayer would be answered.

So now when her father sent for her, and told her that it was time the plans he had formed for her future should be carried out, she answered, ”Cannot things remain as they are?”

”They cannot,” said Miser Farebrother. ”Mr. Pamflett will come here this evening, and will sleep here to-night. To-morrow morning he will go to London to attend to the business, and in the evening he will return.

Before to-morrow night is over you will accept him for your husband.”

”I will never do that,” said Phoebe.

”You have sworn to obey me,” he said, sternly.

”I have not,” she said, in as steady a voice as she could command. ”I have sworn never to marry without your consent, and I will keep my oath.

I have sworn not to leave Parksides unless you thrust me out, and I will keep my oath. There my obligation ends.”

”What objection have you to Mr. Pamflett?” he asked.

”I hate and abhor him,” said Phoebe, firmly. ”He is not a man; he is a reptile.”

The door opened, and Mrs. Pamflett appeared.

”Come in,” cried Miser Farebrother, ”and hear what this ungrateful child calls your son. Repeat it in her hearing,” he said to Phoebe.

The girl did not speak.

”I will tell you,” said Miser Farebrother, ”and if she denies it she lies. I asked her what objection she had to Jeremiah, and she answered that she hated and abhorred him, and that he was not a man but a reptile.”

”Did you say that?” exclaimed Mrs. Pamflett, with venom in her voice and eyes.

Phoebe was silent.

”That is the proof,” said Miser Farebrother. ”If she did not say it she would deny it.”

”My son a reptile!” said Mrs. Pamflett; ”then what am I--his mother? I shall remember it!”

”Do you want me any longer?” asked Phoebe of her father.

”No; you can go.”

At tea time, Jeremiah having arrived, Miser Farebrother sent for his daughter. She sat at the table and poured out the tea. Dark rims were around her eyes, her lips were quivering; but there was no pity for her.

They talked of business matters; according to Jeremiah, money was being made fast; profitable negotiations had been entered into that day, and the miser gloated as he jotted down figures and calculated interest.

”Things are looking up, Jeremiah,” he said, in a tone of exultation.

”That they are, sir,” said Jeremiah. ”Everything is going on swimmingly.”