“And that you forget all the past, Master Dick,” cried Mrs Lloyd, with a wild sob, “and that those who have done everything for you may now be turned out of the house in their old age and go and beg their bread, while you make merry with your friends.”
“Come—come—come, Mrs Lloyd,” said Trevor, advancing to her, and laying his hand caressingly on her shoulder, “you don’t believe that; you have too much respect for your old master’s son to think he would grow up such an ingrate—so utterly void of common feeling. He has not forgotten who took the place of his mother—who nursed him—who tended him through many an illness, and was always more a friend than a servant. He has come back a man—I hope a generous one—accustomed to command, and be obeyed. He wishes you to keep your position of confidential trust, and the thought of making any change has never entered his mind. All he wishes is that you should make an effort to see the necessity for taking the place necessitated by the relative positions in which we now find ourselves; and he tells you, Mrs Lloyd, that you may rest assured while Penreife stands there is always a home for you and for your husband.”
As he touched her a shiver ran through the woman’s frame; the inimical aspect faded out, and she looked admiringly in his face, her own working the while, as his grave words were uttered, till, sobbing violently, she threw her arms round his neck, kissed him passionately again and again, and then sank upon the floor to cover her face with her hands.
“There—there, nurse,” he said, taking her hand and raising her. “Let this show you I’ve not forgotten old times. This is to be the seal of a compact for the future,”—he kissed her gravely on the forehead. “Now, nurse, you will believe in your master for the future, and you see your way?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, looking appealingly in his face.
“We thoroughly understand each other?”
“Yes, sir; and I’ll try never to thwart you again.”
“You’ll let me be master in my own house?” he said, his handsome face lighting up with a smile.
“Yes, indeed, I will, sir,” sobbed the woman; “and—and—you’re not angry with me—for—for—”
“For what—about the wine?”