Her encounters with Trevor had been few and far between; but all seemed satisfactory, and, to use her own words, she “bided her time.”
When the news came to her ears, endorsed by the sudden departure of the visitors, and further confirmed by the many visits to Tolcarne, and lastly by the coming of the Reas to Penreife, that Trevor was engaged to Valentina Rea, the woman was furious.
“It shan’t go on, Lloyd—I won’t have it. I’ll put a stop to it. He shall marry Polly, or—”
“Martha, Martha!” cried her husband, wringing his hands—“you will ruin us.”
“Ruin! I’ll ruin him—an upstart! I’ll have him on his knees to me. After the way in which I brought him up, to turn upon me like this. He shall marry Polly!”
“How can you be so mad?” groaned Lloyd. “Oh, Martha, think of our old age.”
“Think!” said Mrs Lloyd, contemptuously, “I do think. Mad? Isn’t a girl with the blood of the Lloyds in her veins better than the daughter of an upstart London merchant? There—hold your tongue; and don’t you interfere. I’m not going to be stopped in my plans, so I tell you. Lloyd, are you asleep?”
“No,” said her husband, with a heavy sigh, “I wish I was, so as to forget my troubles.”
“You dolt!” exclaimed Mrs Lloyd. “Have you seen Humphrey hanging about lately?”
There was no answer.