"Here I am," she said. "I have come back—you can have your way. You didn't starve me out, but you took my heart and crushed it—you crushed it under your foot. You're a bad man; there's only one worse than you, and that's Isaac Dent. I have come back, and I'll stay ef you'll take me on my own terms. Not unless—mind you that—not unless."
Granger was a little the worse for drink. He was not really tipsy, but he had taken enough slightly to confuse his brain; and the altered aspect of the room and the sudden apparition of his daughter almost paralyzed him.
"Well, I never!" he exclaimed, and he sank down, an abject-looking figure, on the nearest chair.
"Do you hear me, father?" said Bet. She came up close and stood over him. "I ha' come back, Ef you give me my terms, I'll stay. I'll stay, and I don't mind owning that I've been conquered. I'll do for you, and tend you, and keep the place tidy for you, same as I did when mother was alive, and what money I earns you shall share. I'll be as true a daughter to you, father, as ef—as ef you was good. You want some one to cosset you up, don't you father? You give me my way, and I'll do it. Cosy will be no name for you, father, and snug no word for this yer room."
Here Bet knelt down, and laid her shapely hand on Granger's arm; her eyes looked into his, and her lips, so hard and firm a minute ago, absolutely smiled.
"You're none so young as you were," she continued; "you're getting on in years, and your step's a bit shaky, and your hairs are turning white. You wants your comforts, father—course you do. Why, this room—it was shameful when I come in, and look at it now!—it's a bit spry, ain't it now?"
"For sure, yes; it is spry," said Granger, glancing round him in a nervous, anxious manner.
His daughter's strange demeanor and unusual gentleness by no means reassured him.
"What are you arter, Bet?" he said, as gruffly as he could manage to speak. "You don't bring honeyed words like them 'ere into this house for nothing. Tell out what you wants, and don't talk flummery."
"I wants you and Dent to take the shame off Will Scarlett," said Bet. "There's no flummery there—that's my meaning, spoke out plain. You two ha' put shame on Will, and cast him into prison, and I want you to take him out again, and lift the shameful lie off him. That's all—it ain't much, and it 'ull be the better for your souls—ef you have any souls—that you should do it."