“Indeed! Well it’s very good of you, I must say,” said Godwin, with a bitterly ironical tone. “Of course, then, it’s much easier for her to be a slave to your whims, since she knows it is to be for life!”
“Godwin, Godwin, my poor darling will be ill again if you speak so and excite him,” wailed the mother.
“Serve him right. I never heard of such a pitiful sham martyr in my life,” said Godwin, shortly; and not daring to trust himself to deliver such a lecture as he had in his mind, he went quickly out of the room, leaving Mrs. Pennant to sob on her darling’s neck, and to assure him that he must forget every word of what his brother had so cruelly said.
“Remember, Rees dear,” she went on tenderly, “he only speaks like that because he wanted to marry Deborah himself. But, of course, she preferred my own boy, my darling eldest son.”
And she passed tremulous fingers through his curly hair.
“Have you told her yet that you mean to marry her?”
“Not yet, mother. I think I will to-night, after what that young cub said.”
“Do, dearest. I suppose she knows what you mean to say to her; but she’s been really very good and devoted to you, so why should you defer the pleasure it will give her?”
“All right, dear mother, I’ll speak to her to-night—that is, if she’s not too late to make my tea,” he added, with the petulance of a spoilt child.
Meanwhile, Deborah, unmindful of the honor which was in store for her, was revelling in the fresh, sweet air of a spring afternoon. After a moment’s debate as to where she should go, she turned her steps towards the river, crossed the bridge, and almost ran down to the meadow where, twenty months ago, the three confederates had found the second entrance to the underground passage.