The Vicar's People. George Manville Fenn

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СКАЧАТЬ said Geoffrey, smiling, and he held out his own.

      “No, no, nonsense,” said the girl, flushing. “Give me the sweeties, and take your money back.”

      “Then you carry that on to please the old lady, eh?” said Geoffrey.

      “Yes, of course,” replied the girl, sharply. “Didn’t you know?”

      “Not I; but I guessed as much.”

      “Mother’s been ill these twenty years, and has to be carried to her bed. She thinks she’s a burthen, so we do it to humour her.”

      “I thought as much.”

      “Then why don’t you take your money?” said a hoarse, rough voice, that chased away all the sentiment of the affair, and Geoffrey started round to see that the fierce-looking old man was leaning over a block of granite, his arms crossed, and his chin resting upon them. “Take your money and go.”

      “No,” said Geoffrey, in his off-hand way. “No: thanks. I want the sweets for the children.”

      “Yours?” said the old fellow, roughly.

      “Mine? Hang it, man; no.”

      Geoffrey turned to the girl, and looked at her, laughing merrily; but this seemed to irritate the old man, who came fiercely from behind the granite block, thrusting his hands far down into his pockets, and scowling angrily.

      “Look here, young man,” he said, hoarsely, “you’re a stranger here, and don’t know us.”

      “Not yet,” said Geoffrey, “but I dare say I soon shall.”

      “Take your money, and don’t come again,” said the old man, hoarsely.

      “You are a nice, pleasant-spoken old gentleman,” said Geoffrey, nonchalantly, as he coolly opened the paper bag, and took out one of the sticks of candy. “Have a sweet?”

      The man uttered a fierce growl that sounded like an oath, and took a step forward in a menacing way, but the girl sprang forward, and threw her arm across his chest.

      “D’yer want me to hurl you off the rocks?” he said savagely.

      “Be quiet, father,” cried the girl. “The gentleman means no harm.”

      “Go in, Bess,” he shouted, and, shaking her off, he went close up to Geoffrey, who did not give way an inch, but looked full in the fierce, repulsive face thrust close to his, till the old man lowered his eyes, and stepped on one side, muttering angrily.

      “Do you always treat strangers like this, Master Prawle?” said Geoffrey, smiling.

      “Go away, I tell ye,” said the old man, fiercely. “We want no dealings with the people.”

      “Don’t anger father, sir,” said the girl, who, however, seemed to be in no wise put out by the old man’s savage resentment.

      “Not I, my girl,” replied Geoffrey; “but what is the matter with your mother?”

      “She fell off the cliff one night,” said the girl, quickly.

      “Tell him to go, Bess,” growled her father. “We don’t want him here.”

      “I asked the gentleman to come, father,” said the girl. Then, turning to Geoffrey, “Thank you kindly, sir. It pleases mother.”

      “Don’t name it, my lass,” replied Geoffrey, smiling, and the girl looked at him very fixedly, as she watched every turn in his frank, open face. “Good-day,” he continued. “Good-day, Master Prawle.”

      The old man scowled at him by way of reply, and then stood watching him till he had climbed back to the edge of the ravine, where, turning to glance down, Geoffrey saw father and daughter below, the latter returning his salute, as he waved his hand before passing out of their sight.

      “Old boy thought I was a hawk after his pigeon,” said Geoffrey, lightly. “What an ill-conditioned old ogre! But there must be some good under his rough bark. Prawle, eh? Elizabeth, otherwise Bess. And the old woman! What a piteous face! Twenty years an invalid! Ah, well! I don’t think Mr. Prawle, of the hoarse voice and fierce tone, need be afraid; but I’d rather not offend him, say about the fair Elizabeth, and then meet him—angry—say beside the shaft of one of those old mines.”

      He glanced then at his watch, and hastened his steps, for the time of his engagement at An Morlock was drawing near.

Chapter Ten.

       Table of Contents

      Geoffrey Makes a Discovery.

      “You are an extremely handsome young woman, and I like the bright, intelligent look in your eyes,” said Geoffrey Trethick to himself; “but I’ll swear you have got a temper.”

      “You are a nice, frank, manly fellow,” said Rhoda Penwynn to herself; “and I wonder whether you are as sensible and not so stubborn as you look.”

      Introductions were just over in Mr. Penwynn’s drawing-room, and Geoffrey, who was in no wise taken aback by the splendour of his host’s surroundings, walked across to where, cold and stiff and quiet, his travelling-companion stood, with one arm upon the mantelpiece, looking uneasily on.

      “It seems as if we are to be thrown together,” said Geoffrey, offering the young clergyman his hand, which the latter took as if under protest, and then glanced from Mr. Penwynn to his daughter, as if in apology for allowing himself to be claimed as an acquaintance by his bluff travelling-companion.

      “You have met Mr. Lee, then?” said the host stiffly.

      “Yes—yes,” said the new vicar; “Mr. Trethick is an old Oxford man.”

      “And you don’t like him,” said Rhoda to herself, as she observed every thing; “and I don’t like you.”

      “We were fellow-passengers by the coach this morning,” said Geoffrey, and as he spoke he glanced by Mr. Penwynn at where Rhoda was re-arranging some flowers, and found that the Reverend Edward Lee had brought his spectacles to bear in the same direction. Then, looking back at his host, he fancied that this gentleman had not been unobservant of the glances of his guests.

      Mr. Penwynn smiled to himself directly after as Geoffrey moved towards Rhoda, and began talking to her about the view from the drawing-room window and his walk along the coast; but the young clergyman looked at his host as if in remonstrance at his allowing this stranger to make so free, when the door opened, and the servant announced—

      “Mr. Tregenna!”

      “Ah, Tregenna! You are late. Glad to see you.”

      “Business, my dear sir. The old story—business. My dear Miss Penwynn, you must forgive me,” he continued, speaking in a low voice full of deference, but with lips that did not seem to move as he spoke, as Rhoda turned СКАЧАТЬ