“He says there’s nowt to fear, sir,” whispered Mrs Banks; “but, oh, sir, will he live?”
“We are in His hands, Mrs Banks,” was the reply. “I hope and pray he may.”
Daisy was looking on with dilated eyes, and pale, drawn face, and as, after some little time, during which he had sought with homely, friendly words to comfort the trembling wife, he rose to go, Daisy approached to let him out, when fancying that he shrank from her, the poor girl’s face became convulsed, and she tried hard but could not stifle a low wail.
She opened the door as he kindly said “Good night;” but as the faint light shone out across the garden and on to the low hedge, Daisy caught him by the arm.
“Don’t go, sir,” she whispered, in a frightened voice; “it mayn’t be safe. Look: there’s a man watching you.”
“You are unnerved,” he said, kindly; and then without thinking—“It is only Podmore; he was waiting as I came in.”
“Tom!” the poor gill ejaculated, catching his arm, “is it Tom? Oh, sir, for the love of God, tell him I’m not the wicked girl he thinks.”
“My poor girl!”
“I was very wicked and weak, sir, in behaving as I did; but tell him—I must speak now—tell him it was Mrs Glaire sent me away.”
“Mrs Glaire sent you away?” exclaimed the vicar.