Part 43 (1/2)

”Mean? Why, that that old Tom Brough ought to be ashamed of himself to come tattling to master about Mr Frank. That was it, wasn't it?”

”No, no!” sobbed the poor girl wearily.

”Then what did he come for?” said Keziah.

There was a pause, during which May wept bitterly.

”I shall go and ask master myself,” said Keziah authoritatively, as she half rose. ”I'm not going to have my child upset like this for nothing.”

”No, no, no!” sobbed May. ”Pray stay, 'Ziah--dear 'Ziah, don't be angry, and I'll tell you all.”

”Then what is it?” said Keziah.

”Mr Brough--”

”Well?”

”Mr Brough has been to talk to papa.”

”Well, go on, child, for goodness' sake, and do wipe your eyes. He's been to talk to master, and what about, pray?”

”About me,” sobbed May.

”Well, and pray what about you?”

”He came to propose, and papa gave him leave.”

”To propose what?” said Keziah. ”There, for goodness gracious in heaven sake, child, speak out and do not keep on riddle-me-riddle-me-reeing in that way. What did he want? Why!” she exclaimed, as a sudden light seemed to break upon her, ”he ain't broke, and come after money? Not he though, he's as rich as a Jew. What does it all mean?”

”He came to propose, and papa ordered me to accept him,” sobbed Mary; ”and when I told papa that I considered myself engaged to poor Frank, he was ready to strike me, and he cursed him, and called him horrible names, and said he would sooner see me dead than married to such a beggar, and that I was to accept Mr Brough's offer.”

”What!” exclaimed Keziah, her eyes dilating as she caught May by the shoulders, and seemed to look her through and through. ”Do you mean to tell me that old Tom Brough, the sugar-baker, wants to marry you, and that master said he should?”

”Yes, yes,” sobbed May. ”O, 'Ziah, I'm half brokenhearted. What shall I do?”

”Do!” cried Keziah fiercely; ”I'd have knocked their heads together.

Old Tom Brough! An old villain! An old rascal! He's sixty, if he's an hour. It's a good job for him he's gone. Sneaking out as he did, and giving me five s.h.i.+llings when he went. Ah! if I'd have known when he was with me there in the pa.s.sage, I'd have given it him!”

May clung to her, sobbing more than ever. ”I'd--I'd--I'd have wrung his neck,” cried Keziah furiously; and then she burst out into a contemptuous laugh, as she strove to comfort the weeping girl, kissing her, wiping her eyes, and holding her to her breast. ”There--there,”

she said, ”let it be now, and I'll talk to them both. I'll let them see that money is not going to do everything. Tom Brough, indeed! A carneying old rascal, with his smooth tongue and pleasant ways; an old deceiver. I thought better things of him. But I haven't done with them all yet; I don't believe there's a man under the sun good for anything.

But there goes the bell.”

Keziah Bay rose to leave the room, but May clung to her imploringly.

”You will not say a word?” she said pleadingly.

”And why not, pray?” Then seeing the agitation and fear in the poor girl's face she continued, ”Then I won't--not to him; for it would be like trying to turn a rus.h.i.+ng bull;--but I'm not married yet, Peter Pash,” she muttered as she left the room, ”nor she isn't married yet, John Richards and Thomas Brough, alderman and big man as you are. We're a poor weak, helpless lot, that we are, and it's my belief that men are born with but one idea, and that is that they ought to persecute us women.”