“Go—and—”
Richard Pellet got no further; for, alarmed at his fierce tones, his auditor vanished as he began; there was a scuffle and a banging door, and he was left alone, pending the delivery of his message.
Another five minutes elapsed, when the door-chain was taken down, the key laboriously turned, and Richard Pellet was admitted by the dirty-faced girl, and shown into the parlour, where, staring the whole time, the child polished a chair for him with her apron, her nose upon her arm; and then, wondering why the black-coated important visitor had no rate-books sticking out of his pocket, she announced that “Missus” would be down directly.
Fuming and frowning, Richard Pellet seated himself upon the rubbed chair; but only to bound from it at the end of a minute, in a state of nervous perturbation, caused by some urchin suddenly and furiously rattling his hoop-stick along the area railings. But Richard Pellet was somewhat unstrung; he had been drinking during the night of wakefulness more than was good for him, to allay the annoyance and harass to which he had been subjected, and now the potent spirit was reminding him of the transgression.
But as he once more seated himself, he determined, upon one thing, and that was, should he obtain a clue by whose means he could trace and overtake Ellen, he would not leave her again until he had seen her safely back with Mrs Walls.
“I’ll make all fast, so that I shall know that she is safely at home for at least two years; for once there again, I know she will be tame and quiet as—Curse her, though! why did she play me such a trick as this? She must be after the child. I wish it was—”
Richard Pellet did not finish his sentence, but started up, and stood staring at the figure which now entered the room.
“Why—why”—he stammered; “I thought you had gone off.”
“Gone!” said Ellen, with a weary smile,—“gone! no, no; I only went to see her little face once more, and she was not there. You had taken her away, and I came back, Richard, for I knew you would be angry; and I said that perhaps you would forgive me, and let me see her again, and tell me where she is. Only once, Richard! only once—just for a minute!” and the clasped hands went up towards him once more in supplication.
But a worldly feeling was strong upon Richard Pellet; in that hour his spirits rose, and he felt elate, for the danger was past, and knowing full well this woman’s truthful candid nature, he knew that it was as she said. She had been to the house, and then returned; and there was no exposure now—nothing to fear, and his heart grew hard as flint as he sneeringly said—