Dutch the Diver; Or, A Man's Mistake
Page 51
STORY THREE, CHAPTER THREE.
TOM BROUGH.
For a good quarter of an hour no word was spoken; then again taking oneof the unresisting hands in his, May's new courtier talked long andearnestly, telling of how, with no ardent passion, but with thechastened love of one who had known a bitter disappointment, he had longwatched her and waited.
"And now, at last, May, I ask you to be an old man's wife," he said."Yours shall be no life of slavery; but there, you have known me long,and for some time past," he said tenderly; "I have not been without hopethat you loved me in return."
"Mr Brough," sobbed May, throwing herself on her knees at his feet, "Ido love you, I have loved you ever since I was a child--loved you as oneshould love a dear father. Have I not often come to you with my girlishtroubles; but you surely never can mean this--you cannot wish what yousay? How can I be your wife, when you know how long--how long--O,Frank, Frank, Frank!" she cried, with a wail of despair that seemed tothrill through her suitor's heart, and raising her in his arms he kissedher tenderly--as lovingly as might a father--and placed her on a sofa athis side, drawing her nearer to him in spite of a slight resistance, ashe tried to whisper a few words in his endeavour to soothe the fierceburst of despair that shook the poor girl's frame.
"There, May--my child," he said at last, "try and command yourself,"when a thought seemed to strike him, and, though evidently troubled andreluctant, he rose to go, tenderly taking leave of the weeping girl.
But before he could reach the door, May had him by the hand.
"Dear Mr Brough," she said beseechingly, "I cannot think that you wouldwish to make me unhappy for life."
"Indeed, no," he said gently, as he held both her hands in his. "Iwould devote my life to making you happy."
"But you know--for some time--Mr Frank Marr--"
Then the recollection of what she had heard and seen that morning seemedto flash across her brain, scathing her as it passed, and with a wildlook she sought to withdraw her hands, but they were fist held.
"Nay, my child," said Mr Brough tenderly, "I love you too well to wishto give you pain. I would sooner suffer myself than cause a pang toyour gentle little heart. Show me that Frank Marr is worthy of you--that is, that your father's words which he told me were either untrue,or that he had been deceived; tell me, in fact, that by waiving myclaims I can give you happiness, and I will do so, and at once, eventhough--" His voice trembled as he spoke, and then he added hastily:"But you are much agitated; I will go. Only one question before apainful subject is buried for ever--Are you aware that Frank Marr waswith your father this morning?"
May bowed her head, for the words would not come.
"And you know of the offer made and accepted? Good God, what a brute Iam!" he exclaimed, as he had just time to catch May in his arms, andsave her from falling.
"That's just what you are!" exclaimed a harsh voice, and the visitorbecame aware of the presence of Keziah Bay, who indignantly caught thefainting girl from him, and apparently without much effort bore her fromthe room.
It was with a quiet, thoughtful face that Tom Brough, the well-knownwealthy, charitable sugar-baker, made his way to one of the Citychop-houses, and sat down in a dark box to think for quite an hour, witha newspaper before his face, a newspaper that the impatient waiterswooped down at a good half-dozen times, but never asked for on accountof its being in the hands of so excellent a customer. But never a wordread Tom Brough; it was only a blind behind which he wished to think onthat eventful morning; and he thought till his countenance lightened,for it seemed to him that his way ahead was very clear, and in that wayahead he saw himself a happy man, cheered by May's smiles, in spite ofhis years, and playing with her children; and at last, his own eyes dewyand twinkling, his bright grey hair glistening, and the ruddy hues ofhis open countenance ruddier than ever, he laid aside the paper just ata moment when, unable to bear it any longer, the waiter was swoopingdown with the fell intent of striking and bearing off the sheet. Butjust as he stooped to seize it, the paper was dropped, and he wasstanding face to face with the old and regular attendant at the place.
"Charles," said Mr Brough, "I think I'll take a chop."
"And hysters, sir?" said Charles.
"And oysters," said Tom Brough.
"Port _or_ sherry, sir?" said Charles respectfully.
"Pint of port--yellow seal," said Tom Brough with a sigh of content, andthen he leaned back and looked up at the dingy soot-darkened skylight,till the hissing hot chop was brought, moistening his lips from time totime with the glass of tawny astringent wine, seeing, though, no yellowglass, no floating blacks, nothing but a bright future; and then heate--ate like a man who enjoyed it, finished his fifth glass of port,and walked to his office, brisk, bustling, and happy.
"Gentleman been waiting to see you two hours, sir," said a clerk.
"Bless my soul, how tiresome!" he muttered. "I wanted to do as littleas possible to-day; and if news came that the sugar crops were a failureto a cane, I believe I'm so selfish that I shouldn't care a--"
But, whatever might have been the proper finish of that sentence, it wasnever uttered; for, bustling forward with an easy elastic step, thepleasant countenance suddenly became grave as opening the door of hisinner office Tom Brough stood face to face with pale, stern-lookingFrank Marr.