“Do you hear what I say?” asked the old lady, peremptorily.
“Yes, I hear, mamma,” answered Deborah, in a low-toned, broken voice. Then, after a moment’s further hesitation, she moved two steps nearer, sank down on her knees, and hid her face in Mrs. Pennant’s chair. “Mamma,” she whispered, “I can’t stay—if you speak to me like that. You must try to be fond of me, and I’ll stay, and be good to you, work for you if I can, comfort you if I can. You would never let me love you before—will you try now? Captain Pennant is gone, Rees doesn’t care for me now; I can’t live without any love, in the place where I had so much. I would rather go away among strangers; I could bear that better.”
Mrs. Pennant was touched. At last she felt her heart go out to the brave, frank girl, and she put a trembling hand upon her neck, where the soft brown hair strayed from under the sombre black bonnet.
“Stay, child,” she whispered. “You shall not have to complain.”
Half a word was enough for Deborah, craving, as she did, an affection to replace what she had lost. She threw her strong young arms round her with a clasp in which the poor harassed lady felt at last not only comfort, but support. And from that hour Deborah transferred, if not all, at least a great part of the affection she had felt for her adopted father to his widow, whom she cherished and served with a true daughter’s devotion.
Meanwhile, the unhappiest member of the household was poor Rees, who, before his father had been dead a week, found that his own position as head of the family had been practically usurped by his younger brother Godwin. This shrewd and energetic fellow, on learning Lord St. Austell’s offer to Rees and the latter’s refusal of it, had instantly been seized with the idea of applying himself for the post.
The earl was rather cold at first, feeling, on account of Rees’s conduct, a temporary disgust with the whole family. But Godwin insisted so humbly, representing truly enough that he had had, young as he was, much more business experience than his elder brother, that at last he gained his point to the extent of being appointed assistant steward on trial.
When Rees learnt this, although he tried to congratulate his brother, and to wish him God-speed on his journey northwards, he fell into a passion of remorse and anger, and, rushing out of the house towards the spot which he now began to haunt as regularly as Goodhare himself, he flung himself down under the trees in a large field which stretched under the western wall of the castle, and burying his face in his hands, gave himself up to a paroxysm of despair.
What had he done, he the spoiled favorite of the county, who had begun to look upon all men’s indulgence as his right, that he should suddenly find himself thrown down from his long-established position, an exile from Llancader, cut by all its inmates, neglected by Goodhare, and even avoided by his faithful slave, Deborah? For the girl’s spirit had at last rebelled against his curt assumption of indifference towards her; while, as for Amos, he had had reasons for his own for giving the young man a wide berth for a few days. Those few days, however, were now over; and that very afternoon Amos, having seized the opportunity of his dinner-hour for a prowl round the goal of his dreams, saw the young fellow as he lay stretched on the grass, and instantly decided that the time was ripe for another step. He came down to the lower ground, therefore, and called Rees gently by his name before the young fellow had heard his footsteps.
The lad sprung up with a flushed, wild face and reckless manner.