Foul Play [181]
fire up so before. But when he came to think calmly over it a little while, he said: "I hope this slander will never reach my father's ears; it would grieve him deeply. I only laugh at it.' "
"Laugh at it! and yet talk of killing?"
"Oh, people say they laugh at a thing when they are very angry all the time. However, as you are a good girl, and mind what you are told, I'll read you an advertisement that will make you stare. Here is Joseph Wylie, who, you say, wrecked the _Proserpine,_ actually invited by Michael Penfold to call on him, and hear of something to his advantage."
"Dear me!" said Helen, "how strange! Surely Mr. Penfold cannot know the character of that man. Stop a minute! Advertise for him? Then nobody knows where he lives? There, papa. You see he is afraid to go near Arthur Wardlaw; he knows he destroyed the ship. What a mystery it all is! And so Mr. Penfold is at home, after all; and not to send me a single line. I never met with so much unkindness and discourtesy in all my life."
"Ah, my dear," said the general, "you never defied the world before, as you are doing now."
Helen sighed; but, presently recovering her spirit, said she had done without the world on her dear island, and she would not be its slave now.
As she was always as good as her word, she declined an invitation to play the lion, and, dressing herself in plain merino, went down that very evening to Michael Penfold's cottage.
We run thither a little before her, to relate briefly what had taken place there.
Nancy Rouse, as may well be imagined, was not the woman to burn two thousand pounds. She locked the notes up; and after that night became very reserved on that head, so much so that, at last, Mr. Penfold saw it was an interdicted topic, and dropped it in much wonder.
When Nancy came to think of it in daylight, she could not help suspecting Wylie had some hand in it; and it occurred to her that the old gentleman, who lodged next door, might be an agent of Wylie's and a spy on her. Wylie must have told him to push the 2,000 pounds into her room; but what a strange thing to do! To be sure, he was a sailor, and sailors had been known to make sandwiches of bank-notes and eat them. Still, her good sense revolted against this theory, and she was sore puzzled; for, after all, there was the money, and she had seen it come through the wall. One thing appeared certain, Joe had not forgotten her; he was thinking of her as much as ever, or more than ever; so her spirits rose, she began singing and whistling again, and waited cunningly till Joe should reappear and explain his conduct. Hostage for his reappearance she held the 2,000 pounds. She felt so strong and saucy she was half sorry she had allowed Mr. Penfold to advertise; but, after all, it did not much matter; she could always declare to Joe she had never missed him, for her part, and the advertising was a folly of poor Mr. Penfold's.
Matters were in this condition when the little servant came up one evening to Mr. Penfold and said there was a young lady to see him.
"A young lady for _me?"_ said he.
"Which she won't eat you, while I am by," said the sharp little girl. "It is a lady, and the same what come before."
"Perhaps she will oblige me with her name," said Michael, timidly.
"I won't show her up till she do," said this mite of a servant, who had been scolded by Nancy for not extracting that information on Helen's last visit.
"Of course, I must receive her," said Michael, half consulting the mite; it belonged to a sex which promptly assumes the control of such gentle creatures as he was.
"Is Miss Rouse in the way?" said he.
The mite laughed, and said:
"She is only gone down the street. I'll send her in to take care on you."
With this she went off, and in due course led Helen up the stairs. She ran in, and whispered in Michael's ear--
"It is Miss Helen Rolleston."
Thus they announced a lady at No. 3.
Michael stared with wonder at so great a personage visiting him; and the next moment Helen glided into the room, blushing a little, and
"Laugh at it! and yet talk of killing?"
"Oh, people say they laugh at a thing when they are very angry all the time. However, as you are a good girl, and mind what you are told, I'll read you an advertisement that will make you stare. Here is Joseph Wylie, who, you say, wrecked the _Proserpine,_ actually invited by Michael Penfold to call on him, and hear of something to his advantage."
"Dear me!" said Helen, "how strange! Surely Mr. Penfold cannot know the character of that man. Stop a minute! Advertise for him? Then nobody knows where he lives? There, papa. You see he is afraid to go near Arthur Wardlaw; he knows he destroyed the ship. What a mystery it all is! And so Mr. Penfold is at home, after all; and not to send me a single line. I never met with so much unkindness and discourtesy in all my life."
"Ah, my dear," said the general, "you never defied the world before, as you are doing now."
Helen sighed; but, presently recovering her spirit, said she had done without the world on her dear island, and she would not be its slave now.
As she was always as good as her word, she declined an invitation to play the lion, and, dressing herself in plain merino, went down that very evening to Michael Penfold's cottage.
We run thither a little before her, to relate briefly what had taken place there.
Nancy Rouse, as may well be imagined, was not the woman to burn two thousand pounds. She locked the notes up; and after that night became very reserved on that head, so much so that, at last, Mr. Penfold saw it was an interdicted topic, and dropped it in much wonder.
When Nancy came to think of it in daylight, she could not help suspecting Wylie had some hand in it; and it occurred to her that the old gentleman, who lodged next door, might be an agent of Wylie's and a spy on her. Wylie must have told him to push the 2,000 pounds into her room; but what a strange thing to do! To be sure, he was a sailor, and sailors had been known to make sandwiches of bank-notes and eat them. Still, her good sense revolted against this theory, and she was sore puzzled; for, after all, there was the money, and she had seen it come through the wall. One thing appeared certain, Joe had not forgotten her; he was thinking of her as much as ever, or more than ever; so her spirits rose, she began singing and whistling again, and waited cunningly till Joe should reappear and explain his conduct. Hostage for his reappearance she held the 2,000 pounds. She felt so strong and saucy she was half sorry she had allowed Mr. Penfold to advertise; but, after all, it did not much matter; she could always declare to Joe she had never missed him, for her part, and the advertising was a folly of poor Mr. Penfold's.
Matters were in this condition when the little servant came up one evening to Mr. Penfold and said there was a young lady to see him.
"A young lady for _me?"_ said he.
"Which she won't eat you, while I am by," said the sharp little girl. "It is a lady, and the same what come before."
"Perhaps she will oblige me with her name," said Michael, timidly.
"I won't show her up till she do," said this mite of a servant, who had been scolded by Nancy for not extracting that information on Helen's last visit.
"Of course, I must receive her," said Michael, half consulting the mite; it belonged to a sex which promptly assumes the control of such gentle creatures as he was.
"Is Miss Rouse in the way?" said he.
The mite laughed, and said:
"She is only gone down the street. I'll send her in to take care on you."
With this she went off, and in due course led Helen up the stairs. She ran in, and whispered in Michael's ear--
"It is Miss Helen Rolleston."
Thus they announced a lady at No. 3.
Michael stared with wonder at so great a personage visiting him; and the next moment Helen glided into the room, blushing a little, and