"It is a little late to remember that she had a father," he said. "She forgot that she was my child when she became your wife. The best that can happen to her now is that she should continue to forget it—for ever, if possible. I sincerely hope it may be possible—for her own sake. No one will disturb your possession."
He turned away when he had spoken. He could not condescend to quarrel with this man.
"God bless my soul!" cried the parson. "Mr. Deane's daughter your wife; but—but——"
"But she was never born for the likes o' me, eh?" said the preacher. "Is that what you'd say, parson? It's her own flesh an' blood she should ha' clung to, when they miscalled her, an' cast her out? an' I should ha' shrugged my shoulders an' walked away?" His heart was hot within him. Mr. Deane's voice and face and manner, the strong indissoluble tie of blood that made Meg his, even when he denied her, awoke the man's fierce jealousy, and awoke also a certain sore despondency that he himself hardly understood.
"An' so ye'll not disturb me?" he went on slowly. The two men's eyes met for a second, and Barnabas Thorpe laughed rather grimly. "An' that's a true word," he said. "I am no' o' your kind, thank God; but happen I know one thing. I can take care o' the woman who is mine."
CHAPTER V.
"A small piece of good fortune having fallen to Mrs. Thorpe's share, it's really time that her old acquaintances should ask what has become of her, isn't it?" said Mr. Sauls.
He was standing in Laura Ashford's drawing-room, whither he had come to extract any knowledge she might possess as to her sister's whereabouts. Unfortunately she knew nothing.