He did not turn round fiercely to bid her begone, but shrank from her, farther and farther, into his great roomy chair, and at that moment, could he have done so, he would have arrested the farther progress of the ceremony, for remorse was beating strongly at his heart.
But the time was passed now, and with him action was impossible. He sat there motionless, listening to the sobs of his old servant till nearly an hour had passed, when suddenly Keziah rose, wiping her eyes, and saying,—
“I hadn’t the heart to go and see it, and now it is too late!”
“Yes, yes,” said old Richards softly; “it is now too late!”
The next moment Keziah was hurrying from the room, for there was the sound of wheels and a heavy knocking at the door, which she opened to admit old Tom Brough, red and excited, and his first act upon the door being closed was to catch Keziah round the waist, to hug her and give her a sounding kiss before waltzing her down the passage, she struggling the while till she got free, and stood panting, trembling, and boiling over with ire.
“It’s all right, ’Ziah!” he exclaimed, “the knot’s tied.”
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, that you ought,” panted Keziah, darting away to avoid another embrace. “And pray where’s Miss May?”
Tom Brough did not answer, he only hurried into the drawing-room, where old Richards sat upright, holding on by the arms of his chair.
“Where’s May?” he gasped, looking ashy pale; “why have you not brought her back?”
“Because she was not mine to bring,” said Tom Brough coolly. “Flunk Marr waylaid me, and he’s carried her off and married her.”