CHRISTOPHER STAINES.
Falcon rose, and began to steal on tiptoe out of the room.
Rosa stopped him. “You need not go,” said she. “You are our friend. By and by I hope I shall find words to thank you.”
“Pray let me retire a moment,” said the hypocrite. “A husband's last words: too sacred—a stranger:” and he went out into the garden. There he found the nursemaid Emily, and the little boy.
He stopped the child, and made love to the nursemaid; showed her his diamonds—he carried them all about him—told her he had thirty thousand acres in Cape Colony, and diamonds on them; and was going to buy thirty thousand more of the government. “Here, take one,” said he. “Oh, you needn't be shy. They are common enough on my estates. I'll tell you what, though, you could not buy that for less than thirty pounds at any shop in London. Could she, my little duck? Never mind, it is no brighter than her eyes. Now do you know what she will do with that, Master Christie? She will give it to some duffer to put in a pin.”
“She won't do nothing of the kind,” said Emily, flushing all over. “She is not such a fool.” She then volunteered to tell him she had no sweetheart, and did not trouble her head about young men at all. He interpreted this to mean she was looking out for one. So do I.
“No sweetheart!” said he; “and the prettiest girl I have seen since I landed: then I put in for the situation.”
Here, seeing the footman coming, he bestowed a most paternal kiss on little Christie, and saying, “Not a word to John, or no more diamonds from me;” he moved carefully away, leaving the girl all in a flutter with extravagant hopes.
The next moment this wolf in the sheep-fold entered the drawing-room. Mrs. Staines was not there. He waited, and waited, and began to get rather uneasy, as men will who walk among pitfalls.
Presently the footman came to say that Mrs. Staines was with her father, in his study, but she would come to him in five minutes.