The tears gathered in the girl’s eyes—only one thing her simple soul hungered after—she wanted this man’s love—she wanted to be allowed to love him in return.
“She didn’t love you like me,” she said.
“She didn’t love me at all, it was I loved her, the young fool. That’s the way of the world. Come, Nell, don’t cry—that s the bitterness of it. Where’s the good of crying? Where’s the good of loving me? I wasted all the love I had to give on a woman, who made a plaything of me—oh, about the time you were born I suppose. That’s the way of the world, my dear; oh, you ‘ll learn as you grow older.”
“Ben Fisher,” said Nellie slowly—“Ben Fisher, Gran says, loves me, an’ ‘ud marry me. An’ he’s Macartney’s boss man.”
The man sprang to his feet and caught her roughly in his arms. He hurt her, but she did not mind; such fierce wooing was better than the indifference which had seemed to mark his manner before. His hot breath was on her face, and in his eyes was an angry gleam, but she read love there too, and was content.
“You, Nellie—you—do you want Ben Fisher? If you go to him—if you have any truck with him—I ‘ll kill you, Nell.”
She closed her eyes and drooped her head on to his shoulder.
“Jes’ so,” she said, “you can.”
“Nell, Nell,” called her grandmother’s voice from above. “Nell, you come up this minute. Drat the girl, where’s she got to? You come along, miss, and help to get supper. There’s the bread to set, for Macartney’s mob ‘ll be here early to-morrow.”
James Newton held the girl for a moment with a merciless hand.