“Howd your tongue, lass, or you’ll make me mad,” cried Tom. “But Daisy, my bairn, listen,” he cried, softening down. “You know I loved you. Come wi’ me, and I’ll find you a home somewheers. You shall never see me again, but I shall know that I’ve saved you from him.”
“Tom, where is my father?” cried Daisy, indignantly.
“Listen to me, Daisy, ’fore it is too late,” pleaded the young man. “Let me tak’ you away.”
“Will you tell me where my poor father is?” cried Daisy again. “If you can’t believe in me, I will listen to this shameful talk no more.”
“Shameful talk!” said Tom, bitterly.
“Where is my father?”
“Drove mad by his child,” cried Tom, speaking now in tones of sorrow. “Gone by this time wi’ a lot more to blow up the wucks.”
“I won’t believe it yet,” cried Daisy. “It can’t be true. My dear father would never do the like.”
“It’s true enew,” said Tom, “and I should ha’ been theer trying once more to stop him, only I see you, and, like a fool, tried to save thee again.”
“Tom,” cried Daisy, who was giddy with dread and excitement, “tell me that this is some terrible mistake.”