‘Culpable negligence, my dear.’
‘Yes, that was it; and a great shame it was!’ cried the girl warmly. ‘I wonder where the sovereigns went to?’
‘Ah! where indeed?’ asked Harry. ‘They were never traced. But old Cusack, our cashier, who disappeared with them, took good care that they never should be traced. It’s my belief that they went to sea, for three thousand pounds in sovereigns are not carried away so easily. However, after all, it did me no harm. Every one agreed that I was cruelly treated. I got a new berth immediately; and I’m much better off now than I should have been if I’d remained in the bank’s service; so well off, in fact, Bertha, that I’m beginning to think it almost time for us to come to some decision as to what we shall do.’
‘O Harry! there’s plenty of time to think about that; and it’s—it’s so pleasant making love; and besides, I must break it gently to father, for he has no idea of parting with me yet.’
‘But he surely can’t expect that you should spend your life in that tumble-down old smuggler’s cottage.—Hillo! there’s Rodley, skulking about like a whipped cur. We’ll go on.’
So the happy pair proceeded into the market, Harry holding the girl’s baskets whilst she made her usual purchases, until the clock striking ten warned the young man that he was due at his office. He saw Bertha on her road home as far as the South Gate, and was hurrying across the market-place, when he caught sight of Jasper Rodley walking swiftly in the direction taken by Bertha. He stopped and watched. He saw Rodley catch the girl up just as she was disappearing beneath the archway, raise his hat, and continue by her side in spite of Bertha’s evident annoyance. Harry Symonds retraced his steps so far that he could watch the progress of the pair out of the town. Suddenly, he observed Mr Rodley attempt to put his arms round Bertha’s waist, whereupon the girl struggled, got free, and ran on.
This was too much for Harry. He ran out by the gate, and, coming up to Bertha and her tormentor, said to him: ‘Mr Rodley, what do you mean by daring to force your attentions where they are not wanted?’
Jasper Rodley, a tall, well-built young fellow, of about Harry’s age and size, started at first; but, shoving his hands into his pockets, surveyed his questioner for a moment with disdain, and asked: ‘And what has that to do with you, Mr Dismissed Bank-clerk?’
Harry was itching to thrash him on the spot; but respect for Bertha’s presence induced him to bottle up his wrath as best he could, and reply: ‘You’ve no right to bother any girl if she doesn’t want to have anything to do with you. And look here—your character hereabouts isn’t so high that you can afford to call other people names, so I warn you to keep a civil tongue in your head, or something might be done that you wouldn’t like, and something might be said that would make you look a little small.’
This last bit was added at random, but it seemed to have a strange effect upon Rodley, who turned pale for a moment, but recovered himself and retorted: ‘Done and said, indeed! You couldn’t do much that I’m afraid of, and at anyrate people couldn’t say of me what they do of you. How about these sovereigns, eh?’