The Vicar's People. George Manville Fenn

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СКАЧАТЬ see was perfectly sincere, and she knew at once that he was not a man likely to flatter.

      That duet gave Rhoda Penwynn time to recover herself, and she was perfectly calm by the end—a calm she managed to maintain until the guests were about to depart.

      “By the way, Mr. Lee,” said the banker, “have you obtained apartments? It is a disgrace to our place that the vicarage is not rebuilt.”

      “Oh, yes!” said the vicar, mildly, “I have obtained rooms.”

      “At Mrs. Mullion’s, I presume?”

      “No,” said the vicar, turning his glasses for a moment on Geoffrey. “Mr. Trethick has taken those.”

      “Indeed! Then you are at the hotel?”

      “No; I have made arrangements to board with a Miss Pavey, at a very pleasant cottage—Dinas Vale. Good-night!”

      “I’ll walk as far as your rooms with you, Mr. Trethick,” said Tregenna, as they stepped out into the road. “Have a cigar?”

      They lit up, and strolled along the up-and-down ill-paved way, Tregenna evidently laying himself out to make friends with the new arrival, who made himself frank and pleasant, but, somehow, not cordial.

      “Drop in and have a chat with me, Mr. Trethick,” said Tregenna, at parting. “I may be able to further your views. Any one will show you my place.”

      “Know it,” said Geoffrey. “Saw the brass plate on the gate.”

      “Yes,” laughed Tregenna, “one has to put out a sign. But come and see me; perhaps I can help you.”

      “I don’t like after-dinner promises,” laughed Geoffrey. “They are rash. I may put you to the test.”

      “Rash? Oh, no! We are not like that in the west. I shall be only too glad to help you to the best of my power. Good-night!”

      “Good-night!”

      Geoffrey remained at the garden gate thinking that his companion had spoken a great deal more loudly than was necessary. Then, as he had not finished his cigar, he resolved to smoke it out, and enjoy for a few minutes the cool night air.

      “I don’t like to be hasty,” he thought, “but I scarcely think that I shall trust you, Mr. Tregenna, beyond the reach of my hand. If I am not very much mistaken your civility has a meaning, and you are a confounded scoundrel. If not, I beg your pardon.”

      “Yes,” he said, half aloud, after smoking on for a few minutes and thinking deeply, “it was your voice that I heard down in that old building. Now I wonder who was the girl?”

      As the thought crossed his mind, the faint sound of a closing casement smote his ear, when, like a flash, the light came.

      “By George! of course,” he said. “The other voice was familiar, too. It was our pretty little maiden here. Hang it all! I’ve tumbled into the thick of a mystery, and if I don’t take care I shall be in the middle of the mess.”

      “Hah?” he exclaimed, as he tapped at the door, “As I said before, it’s no business of mine, and her father knows best; but this love-making is the greatest nuisance under the sun, or I ought to say the moon.”

Chapter Twelve.

       Table of Contents

      Cold Water.

      Mr. John Tregenna had lost no time upon leaving the dining-room, but joined Rhoda, who sat looking rather pale, but prepared for the attack.

      She knew that it must come, and, in spite of a feeling of dread, she felt almost glad, when, seating himself beside her, he began, with plenty of calm, quiet assurance, to plead his cause, she listening patiently the while to all he had to say.

      Every word he uttered was to Rhoda as so much trouble over, and she would not look nor speak until he had finished, being determined to hear all he had to say, and to let him say it without hinderance, so that the matter should be ended once and for all.

      He was too cunning a man—too well versed in human nature—to attempt heroics with such a girl as Rhoda, and there was no enraptured catching of hands, no falling upon one knee, no passionate adjuration. Tregenna began by telling her that he had her father’s consent, and that he only wanted hers. That for years past he had loved her with a patient, growing love, which now permeated—he said permeated—his very being, and that it was his only desire that she should become his wife.

      As he spoke he held ready in one hand a very handsome diamond hoop ring, which was to be the token of their betrothal, for he felt no doubt upon the subject. Rhoda might make a little demur, and be a bit distant and coquettish, but he felt sure that she had been well schooled by her father, and she was just the woman to become his wife. She attracted him with her handsome face and fine svelte figure; she would look well at the head of his table; she would give him position; and, what was more, her father was very wealthy, and that wealth must finally come to him.

      Rhoda caught a glimpse of the ring in his hand, for as he fidgeted it about a ray flashed from it betraying its presence, and she knew what it was, for her lips tightened, and a hard look came into her eyes.

      At last he was silent, and waiting her reply.

      It was a hard task, but she was now well strung up, and turning to him quietly, she said—

      “Don’t you think, Mr. Tregenna, that it is necessary in such a case for there to exist a mutual feeling of attachment?”

      There was something so terribly cold and matter-of-fact in this—something, so to speak, so ungirlish—that it came upon Tregenna like a thunder-clap; but he was equal to the emergency.

      “No,” he said eagerly; “certainly not, if the lady has no prior attachment, which you, dear Rhoda, I am sure, have not.”

      “No, Mr. Tregenna, I certainly have not,” she replied, quietly.

      “It is only necessary,” he exclaimed, “that the man should love. The love of the woman will grow.”

      “I do not agree with you, Mr. Tregenna,” she replied, quietly.

      “But, my dearest Rhoda—”

      “Mr. Tregenna,” she said firmly, “let us understand one another at once. From a feeling of respect for my father’s friend I have heard you to the end, and my respect for you has grown as I have noticed the gentlemanly manner in which you have made known to me your unfortunate attachment.”

      “Unfortunate?” he exclaimed, looking at her almost stunned.

      “Yes, unfortunate; because I must tell you frankly, Mr. Tregenna, that I cannot give you the slightest hope.”

      “My dear Rhoda,” he exclaimed, “you mistake me. I do not ask you to be my wife now, but by-and-by. I only ask for time.”

      “Time СКАЧАТЬ