The Parson O' Dumford. Fenn George Manville

you do love me a little, Daisy?” he whispered.

      “No, no, I don’t think I do,” sobbed the girl, without, however, trying to get away. “I believe you were going to meet Miss Eve this morning, and were disappointed because I was there.”

      “Indeed I was not,” said Richard. “But I’m sure you were expecting to see that great hulking hound, Tom Podmore.”

      “That I was not,” cried Daisy, impetuously; “and I won’t have you speak like that of poor Tom, for I’ve behaved very badly to him, and he’s a good – good, worthy fellow.”

      “‘Poor Tom!’” said Richard, with a sigh. “Ah, Daisy, Daisy.”

      “Don’t, Mr Richard, please,” sobbed Daisy, who was crying bitterly.

      “‘Poor Tom – Mr Richard,’” said the young man, as if speaking to himself.

      “Don’t, don’t, Mr Richard, please.”

      “‘Mr Richard.’”

      “Well, Dick, then. But there, I must go now.”

      “Not just now, darling Daisy,” whispered Richard, passionately. “Come with me – here we are close by the door.”

      “No, no, indeed I will not,” cried Daisy, firmly.

      “Not when I tell you it isn’t safe for me to be in the streets at night, for fear some ruffian should knock out my brains?”

      “Oh, Dick, dear Dick, don’t say so.”

      “But I’m obliged to,” he said, trying to draw her along, but she still resisted.

      “I wouldn’t have you hurt for the world,” she sobbed; “but, Richard – Dick, do you really, really love me as much as you have said?”

      “Ten thousand times more, my darling, or I shouldn’t have been running horrible risks to-night to keep my appointment with you.”

      “And you – you want to make me your wife, Richard – to share everything with you?”

      “You know I do, darling,” he cried, in a low, hoarse whisper.

      “Then, Dick, dear, it wouldn’t be proper respect to your future wife to take me there to your works at this time of night,” said the girl, simply, as she clung to him.

      “Not when the streets are unsafe?” he cried.

      “Let’s part now, directly,” said Daisy. “I would sooner die than any one should hurt you, Richard; but you’d never respect your wife if she had no respect for herself. Good night, Richard.”

      “There, I was right,” he cried, petulantly, as he snatched himself away. “You do still care for Tom.”

      “No, no, Dick, dear Dick. I don’t a bit,” sobbed the girl. “Don’t, pray don’t, speak to me like that.”

      “Then will you come with me – only because it isn’t safe here?” whispered Richard.

      “No, no,” sobbed the girl, firmly, “I can’t do that, and if you loved me as you said, you wouldn’t ask me.”

      “Bah!” ejaculated Richard, angrily. “Go to your dirty, grimy lout of a lover then;” and as the girl clung to him he thrust her rudely away.

      Sim Slee, more rat-like than ever, had been rubbing his hands together with delight, as he looked down at the dimly-seen figures, and overheard every word.

      “There’ll be a faight, and Dicky Glaire will be bunched about strangely,” muttered Sim, as Daisy gave a faint scream, for a figure strode out of the darkness.

      “She wouldn’t have far to go,” said the figure, hoarsely.

      “Tom!” cried Daisy, shrinking to the wall.

      “Yes, it’s Tom, sure enew,” said the new-comer. “Daisy Banks, it’s time thou wast at home, and I’m goin’ to see thee theer.”

      “How dare you interfere, you insolent scoundrel!” cried Richard, striding forward; but he stopped short as Tom drew himself up.

      “Look ye here, Richard Glaire – Mester Richard Glaire,” said Tom, hoarsely, “I’m goin’ to tak’ Daisy Banks home to her father wi’out touching of you; but if yow try to stop me, I’ll finish the job as I stopped them lads from doing this morning. Now go home while you’re raight, for it wean’t be safe to come a step nigher.”

      Richard Glaire drew back, while the young fellow took Daisy by the wrist, and drew her arm through his own, striding off directly, but stopping as Richard cried:

      “You cowardly eavesdropper; you heard every word.”

      “Just about,” said Tom, coolly; “I come to tak’ care o’ Daisy here; and if she’d said ‘Yes,’ by the time yow’d got the key of your private door theer, I should ha’ knocked thee down and had my foot o’ thee handsome face, Mester.”

      He strode off, Daisy having hard work to keep up with him, sobbing the while, till they were near her home, when she made an effort to cease crying, wiped her eyes, and broke the silence.

      “Did – did you hear what I said, Tom?” she whispered.

      “Ivery word, lass, but I only recollect one thing.”

      “What was that?”

      “That thou did’st not love me a bit.”

      Daisy gave a sob.

      “You mustn’t mind, Tom,” she said, in a low voice, “for I’m a bad, wretched girl.”

      “I should spoil the face of any man who said so to me,” he said, passionately; and then he relapsed into his quiet, moody manner.

      “There’s plenty of better girls than me, Tom, will be glad to love you,” she said.

      “Yes,” he said, softly, “plenty;” and then with a simple pathos he continued bitterly, “and I’ve got plenty more hearts to give i’ place o’ the one as you’ve ’bout broke.”

      Daisy’s breath came with a catch, and they went on in silence for a time – a silence that the girl herself broke.

      “Tom,” she said, hoarsely, and he gave quite a start. “Tom, are you going to tell mother and father what you’ve heard and seen?”

      “No, lass,” he said, sadly, “I’m not o’ that sort. I came to try and take care o’ thee, not as I’ve any call to now. Thou must go thy own gate, for wi’ such as thou fathers and mothers can do nowt. If Dick Glaire marries thee, I hope thou’lt be happy. If he deceives thee – ”

      “What, Tom?” whispered the girl, in an awe-stricken tone, for her companion was silent.

      “I shall murder him, and be hung out of my misery,” said Tom. “There’s your door, lass. Go in.”

      He waited till the door closed upon her, and then strode off into the darkness.

      Meanwhile Sim Slee leaned cautiously from the window watching Richard, who stood now just beneath him, grinding his teeth with impotent rage as he saw Daisy disappear.

      “Why didn’t that fool smash the lungeing villain!” said Slee to himself; and then he leaned a little further out.

      “I’d like to drop one of these ingots on his head, only it would be mean – Yah! go on, you tyrant and oppressor and robber of the poor, and – oh, my! what a lark!” he said, drawing in his head as Richard Glaire disappeared, when he threw himself on the floor, hugging himself and rolling about in ecstasy, while the cat on a neighbouring lathe set up its back, swelled its tail, and stared at him with dilated eyes.

      “Here’s a lark!” said Sim again. “Why, we shall get owd Joe Banks over to our side. Oh yes, of course he sides with the mesters, he does. He hates trades unions, he does. He says my brotherhood’s humbug, and he’s too true to his master to side wi’ such as me. Ho, ho, ho! I shall hev’ you, Joe Banks, and you’ll bring the