"Saay, la.s.s, it's solid soft."

A little farther on she pa.s.sed the druggist's, where the great bottle of the trophies of his dental work seemed to grin at her in a ghastly way, for it was three parts full of extracted teeth.

Again a little further, and as she was pa.s.sing Riggall's, the bone-setter's, his ghastly sign over his front door, of a skull and cross-bones, made her shudder; for it seemed to tell her of the goal to which she was steering, and so affected her, that outside the town in the winding road, she sat down shivering upon the mile-stone, crying as though her heart would break.

"What shall I do! What shall I do!" she sobbed, when she started up with a faint shriek, for a light hand was laid upon her shoulder.

"Miss Eve!" she cried, on seeing the pale tearless girl before her.

"Yes, Daisy, it is I," said Eve. "I want to speak to you. Let us walk on together."

"No, no, Miss Eve. No, no, dear; not that way."

"Is d.i.c.k waiting for you up there?" said Eve, huskily.

"Don't ask me, Miss; don't ask me, please," cried Daisy, imploringly, as they walked down a side lane.

"I thought he was," said Eve, speaking in a very low deep voice, as if her emotion was stifling her. "I followed you to speak to you."

"You've been following and watching me," cried Daisy, with a burst of pa.s.sion. "You all do; everybody watches me. What have I done that I should be so cruelly used? I wonder some one don't want to put me in prison."

"Daisy!" cried Eve, hoa.r.s.ely, as she caught her by the wrist, "what have I done to you that you should have been so cruel and treacherous?"

"I haven't been," cried Daisy, with a burst of pettish sobs.

"Have I not always been kind and affectionate to you?"

"Yes, yes; I know that," cried Daisy.

"And you reward me by trying to rob me of my promised husband."

"I didn't, I didn't," sobbed Daisy. "I didn't want to; but he was always following me, and hunting me, and worrying me."

"Daisy, Daisy!" cried Eve, with a pa.s.sionate cry, as she threw herself on her knees to the homely girl, "give him back to me; oh, give him back."

"Miss Eve! Miss Eve!" cried the girl, startled at the vehemence and suddenness of this outburst, "oh, do please get up. What can I do?"

"Oh, Daisy, you'll break my heart. You'll kill poor aunt. What have we done, that you should come like a blight upon us?"

Eve rose slowly and stood facing the girl, over whom a change seemed to be coming as she said sulkily:

"It wasn't my doing."

"But you must have led him on," moaned poor Eve. "You, who are so bright and pretty, while I--while I--"

Daisy gave her now a jealous, vindictive look, as if she felt danger; and that this gentle girl was about to rob her of the man she loved, and she exclaimed:

"I must go. I won't stop to be scolded. You want to win him back; but he belongs to me."

"Daisy, Daisy!" cried Eve, catching at her shawl; but it was too late-- the girl had turned and run back into the road, hastening on to the place where she was to have found Richard Glaire, up by the chalk pit; and as she hastened on, she would not look back. Still poor Eve followed her sadly as far as the road, and then turned back towards the town, saying sadly:--

"I could not move her. It is too late, too late."

Long before Eve Pelly had reached the town, with its knots of men out of work, Daisy had climbed the hill to the chalk pit, where Richard was waiting, smoking angrily.

"At last!" he cried. "I was just going back."

He gave a glance round, and was about to throw his arms round the flushed and panting girl, when he started back, and stood staring, as Mrs Glaire came slowly forward from amongst the trees, and taking Daisy's wrist in her hand, she pointed down the road.

"There, you can go back," she said, quietly. "I wish to speak to Daisy Banks."

"No, no, Richard--d.i.c.k, dear, don't leave me with her; she'll kill me!"

screamed Daisy, frightened by the pale, resolute-looking little woman, who held her so tightly.

"Silence, child!" cried Mrs Glaire.

"Oh, come, let's have an end of this," cried Richard.

"I intend to try for an end," said Mrs Glaire, sharply, "for with you I can make no compact that will not be broken."

"Oh, if it's coming to that," said Richard, sharply, "I shall bring matters to an end."

"Go, sir! Go home," said Mrs Glaire, sternly.

"Come, you needn't bully that poor girl," said d.i.c.k, with a half-laugh; then seeing the hand still pointing down the road, he grew uneasy, fidgeted, and ended by saying--"There, just as you like."

"d.i.c.k, don't leave me," gasped Daisy.

"Don't you be a little silly," laughed Richard. "She won't hurt you. I say, mother, you'd better make matters up with Daisy and bring her home, for I think I shall marry her after all."

"Don't, don't leave me, d.i.c.k," whispered Daisy, straining to reach him; but her wrist was tightly clasped, and she sank shivering on the bank by the deep chalk pit, whose side was separated from the lane by a low post and rail fence, beyond which the descent was a sheer precipice of seventy or eighty feet, the old weakened side being dotted with flowers; a place which, as she stood holding Daisy's wrist still tightly and watching her son till he disappeared down the road, Mrs Glaire remembered to have been a favoured spot in her girlhood for gathering nosegays; and where, more than once, she had met her dead husband in the happy days of her own courtship.

As these thoughts came back from the past, a feeling of pity for the poor girl beside her stole into Mrs Glaire's heart, and she trembled in her purpose; but after a few moments' indecision, she told herself that it was for the happiness of all, and that Daisy Banks must suffer in place of Eve.

The stars were beginning to peer out faintly and the glow in the west was paling; but still she stood holding the wrist tightly; while, after making a few energetic efforts to free herself, Daisy submitted like a trapped bird, and crouched there palpitating, and not daring once to raise her eyes to those of the angry mother of the man she believed she loved; but who had at all events obtained so strong a hold upon her that she was forced to submit her will to his, and obey his every command.

Volume 2, Chapter VII.

AT HOME.

"Two can play at that game," said Richard to himself, as he walked sharply down the hill and back into the town, where, not heeding Eve, who was in the dining-room, he hastily wrote a short letter, and then putting on his hat, went out again, smoking a cigar, apparently to have a stroll, and sauntered down towards the Bull and Cuc.u.mber, where he gave a long, low whistle, uttered twice, and then walked on for some distance.

His signal had the required effect, for Sim Slee came after him with a soft pace like a cat, and together the two men went on in the darkness, Richard talking earnestly to his companion, and pa.s.sing money to him, whose c.h.i.n.k was very audible.

"Now you quite understand?" said Richard, earnestly.

"Understand? He, he, he!" chuckled Sim. "I've got it quite by heart.

I say, won't Joe Banks be popped?"