“Of your fixture—of your good, boy. Now, listen to me, Richard. I have long planned this out. I have brought Mary here, educated her, and prepared her for it.”
“And now she has fallen in love with Humphrey, and they are going to marry,” said Trevor, laughing.
But the smile passed away as he saw the malignant look in the woman’s face.
“Humphrey!” she exclaimed, and as she uttered the name she spat upon the ground—“Humphrey shall go. Humphrey shall not stay here. I hate him! His being here is a curse to me.”
“Her own son. The woman is crazy,” thought Trevor; and he looked anxiously in her eyes.
“Mrs Lloyd,” he began; but she caught him by the other wrist, and her strength in her excitement was prodigious.
“Richard,” she exclaimed, “will you mind me—will you do as I wish, and marry Polly?”
“Come to the house, and let’s talk about it there, nurse,” he said, kindly.
“No—no! here—here! I say you shall have her, or, mark me, you shall rue it. There, I know what you think; but I’m as sane as you are—more sane, for you would throw yourself away, and I won’t let you.”
“Come, Mrs Lloyd, there must be an end to this. Come to the house.”