Miss M'Glashan, for that was
the aunt's name, read a large bible in the kitchen with some
of the joys of martyrdom.
It was perhaps half-past three when Dick presented himself,
rather scrupulously dressed, before the cottage door; he
knocked, and a voice bade him enter. The kitchen, which
opened directly off the garden, was somewhat darkened by
foliage; but he could see her as she approached from the far
end to meet him. This second sight of her surprised him.
Her strong black brows spoke of temper easily aroused and
hard to quiet; her mouth was small, nervous and weak; there
was something dangerous and sulky underlying, in her nature,
much that was honest, compassionate, and even noble.
'My father's name,' she said, 'has made you very welcome.'
And she gave him her hand, with a sort of curtsy. It was a
pretty greeting, although somewhat mannered; and Dick felt
himself among the gods. She led him through the kitchen to a
parlour, and presented him to Miss M'Glashan.
'Esther,' said the aunt, 'see and make Mr. Naseby his tea.'
And as soon as the girl was gone upon this hospitable intent,
the old woman crossed the room and came quite near to Dick as
if in menace.
'Ye know that man?' she asked in an imperious whisper.
'Mr. Van Tromp?' said Dick. 'Yes, I know him.'
'Well, and what brings ye here?' she said. 'I couldn't save
the mother - her that's dead - but the bairn!' She had a
note in her voice that filled poor Dick with consternation.
Pages:
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154