"I don't believe it," interrupted Mary, her face flushing with indignant shame. But Godfrey went on without heeding her:
"And get him to marry her off-hand, if you can—for, by God! he shall marry her, or I will kill him."
He spoke looking round at her over his shoulder, a scowl on his face, his foot in the stirrup, one hand twisted in the mane of his horse, and the other with the whip stretched out as if threatening the universe. Mary stood white but calm, and made no answer. He swung himself into the saddle, and rode away. She turned to the gate.
From behind the shrubbery, Tom had heard all that passed between them, and, meeting her as she entered, led the way to a side-walk, unseen from the house.
"O Miss Marston! what is to be done?" he said. "This is a terrible business! But I am so glad you have got her, poor girl! I heard all you said to that brute, Wardour. Thank you, thank you a thousand times, for taking her part. Indeed, you spoke but the truth for her. Let me tell you all I know."
He had not much to tell, however, beyond what Mary knew already.
"She keeps calling out for you, Mr. Helmer," she said, when he had ended.
"I will go with you. Come, come," he answered.
"You will leave a message for your mother?"
"Never mind my mother. She's good at finding out for herself."