Part 46 (1/2)

But Peter Pash looked proud at the confidence placed in him, and, following rather than walking by the side of his lady, he accompanied her to Finsbury-square, in one corner of which place lived Tom Brough.

All the same, though, Peter Pash was not comfortable, for he did not know the object of Keziah's mission. What was she going to Mr Brough's for? It was not because she was sent--she had declared that before starting, and when pressed for her reason she said that she was ”going because she was going,” and Peter did not feel satisfied. In fact, before they were half-way to Finsbury, Peter was fiercely jealous, and telling himself that he was being made a fool of.

”You'd better let me carry that umbrella if you are going to bring it down thump at every step like that,” said Keziah.

”No, thank you, I can manage it,” said Peter, as, tucking it once more beneath his arm, he trotted on by her side, trying to make up his mind how he should find out the truth of his suspicions.

”It only wants a little looking into,” said Peter to himself, ”and then you can find out anything. I can see it all now. And do they think they are going to deceive me? No, I've boiled down and purified too much not to be able to separate the wrong from the right. She's going to ask him if he means to marry her instead of Miss Richards, and if he don't, she'll fall back on me. But she won't, for I don't mean to be fallen on, and so I tell her.”

”Here we are,” said Keziah, stopping short in front of Mr Brough's house.

”Yes, here we are,” said Peter, with what he meant for a searching look.

”Now, look here, Peter,” said Keziah, ”I'm going to see Mr Brough, and you'll wait outside till I come back.”

”But what are you going for?” said Peter.

There was no reply save what was conveyed in a hitch of Keziah's shawl, and then, her summons being responded to, she entered, leaving Peter perspiring on the door-step, brandis.h.i.+ng the great umbrella and peering at the door with eyes that threatened to pierce the wood--varnish, paint, and all.

Meanwhile, Keziah was ushered into the room where Tom Brough was seated, rosy and hearty, over his decanter and gla.s.s.

”Well, Keziah,” he said, ”and how are all at home? Take a chair.”

The visitor did not condescend to reply until the door was shut, when, folding her arms, she stood looking at him with a fierce uncompromising aspect.

”I've come about that poor girl,” she said at last.

”About what poor girl?” said Tom Brough.

”That poor girl whose heart's being broken up into tiny bits by you and him--her father,” cried Keziah, fiercely, ”and I've come to know if you ain't ashamed of yourself. There, hold your tongue, and listen to what I've got to say; I haven't said anything to him at home, because it's like talking to stone and marbles. But I've come to talk to you.”

”Talk away, then,” said Tom Brough, pleasantly.

”I'm going to,” said Keziah, angrily, ”and don't you think, Mr Brough, that you're going to get rid of me like that, because you are not, so now then. This marriage can't go on.”

”Why not?” said Tom Brough, offering a gla.s.s of wine, which was refused.

”Because I'm not going to see my darling that I've nursed and tended ever since she was a baby driven into her grave to please you. There, keep off--gracious, if the man isn't mad!”

Keziah half shrieked the last words, for, leaping from his seat, Tom Brough made a rush at her, chased her round the table with an activity hardly to have been expected from one of his years, followed her out on to the landing as she hastily beat a retreat, down the stairs, along the pa.s.sage, and caught her on the door-mat, where, after a sharp scuffle, he succeeded in imprinting a couple of sounding kisses upon her cheek before she got the door open, and, panting and tumbled, rushed out nearly to the oversetting of Peter Pash, who, with his eye to the keyhole, had seen the chase in part, heard the scuffle in full, and now stood gazing grandly at the panting object of his affections.

”Keziah!” he exclaimed at length, ”I thought better of you.”

”What do you mean by that?” exclaimed the irate dame.

”I thought you had been a woman as could be trusted,” he said, sadly.

”Trusted, indeed!” cried Keziah. ”Why, he's a madman, that's what he is. He's off his head because of this wedding: see if he ain't.”

”Keziah!” said Peter, loftily, ”I've done with you.”