“Oh, I’d be frightened to sleep in this grand house. I’ll go out and get a lodging near by.”
“No, you won’t. I won’t have it said that I turned my own mother out of doors at this hour. You must sleep here. Come, I’ll take you up-stairs.”
“You are as masterful as of old, Clary; but, dear heart, I don’t like sleeping in a house of this sort. However, as it’s late, and if you promise to give me the smallest room and the plainest you has, I’ll stay.”
“Yes; I can give you a nice little dressing-room beyond mine, with a snug bed in it. I’ll have a fire lit.”
“Sakes alive! don’t give me a fire in my bedroom. I hates ’em past bearing, they’re not healthy.”
“Very well, mother, just as you please, but it’s late now, and you must rest.”
Clara took her mother up-stairs, gave her every requisite for the night, and left her. Then she went to her own room. Prepared as she supposed herself to be for every possible emergency, it had not occurred to her that her mother would first discover her secret and then refuse to keep it.
She knew that the present danger was great. Whatever she herself might resolve to do in the future it would never, never do for her mother to forestall her. The child must be removed from the old woman, and if Mrs. Ives did not promise to respect Clara’s secret she would have to be deprived of her liberty. To do this was no easy matter.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE “PELHAM ARMS.”
On the following morning at an early hour Tarbot, knowing nothing of the arrival of Mrs. Ives, went down to Devonshire. He left the train at the little station of Haversham, and, taking a trap, drove straight to the “Pelham Arms” in the village of Great Pelham, which went by this name in contradistinction to Little Pelham, which was four miles distant at the other side of Pelham Towers.