“Oh, I don’t know,” he whined. “But pray, pray come down: I want to have a few words about what’s to be done. I don’t want to take a public-house now, Jane, but to go into the grocery and baking; and there’s a chance before me, if I could only point it out.”
“Well, tell me now,” sobbed Jane.
“No; how can I?” said Gurdon—“I shall be heard. Ah! Jenny, you don’t care for me as you used, or you wouldn’t keep me out here like this!”
“Oh, what shall I do?” sobbed Jane. “I can’t do as he asks, and he knows it; and yet he’s trying to break my heart, he is!”
“Now, then, are you going to listen to me, Jenny?” whispered Gurdon, imploringly.
“Oh, I can’t—I can’t: I daren’t do it!” sobbed poor Jane.
“Oh, please, if you love me, don’t drive me to desperation!” cried Gurdon. “I—”
“Hush!” whispered Jane, in affrighted tones, for at that moment there was a loud knocking at her bedroom door, and the voice of Mrs Elstree was heard.
“Jane—Jane! Quick! Call Sir Murray! My darling is dying!”