'Please don't take it so, Mr. Harrington.'
Evan commanded her to tell him what her mistress had said.
Now up to this point Polly had spoken truth. She was positive her mistress did want to see him. Polly, also, with a maiden's tender guile, desired to bring them together for once, though it were for the last time, and for no good on earth. She had been about to confide to him her young mistress's position toward Lord Laxley, when his sharp interrogation stopped her. Shrinking from absolute invention, she remarked that of course she could not exactly remember Miss Rose's words; which seemed indeed too much to expect of her.
'She will see me to-night?' said Evan.
'I don't know about to-night,' Polly replied.
'Go to her instantly. Tell her I am ready. I will be at the West park- gates. This is why you wrote, Polly? Why did you lose time? Don't delay, my good girl! Come!'
Evan had opened the door. He would not allow Polly an instant for expostulation; but drew her out, saying, 'You will attend to the gates yourself. Or come and tell me the day, if she appoints another.'
Polly made a final effort to escape from the pit she was being pushed into.
'Mr. Harrington! it wasn't to tell you this I wrote.
Miss Rose is engaged, sir.'