It was no new thing
for her to see him in this condition unhappily, and the shrinking
shuddering sensation with which he inspired her to-night was painfully
familiar.
"It's very late, father," she said gently, as the bailiff flung himself
heavily into an arm-chair by the fire-place. "If you don't want me for
anything particular, I should be glad to go to bed."
"Would you, my lass?" he asked grimly. "But, you see, I do want you for
something particular, something uncommon particular; so there's no call
for you to be in a hurry. Sit down yonder," he added, pointing to the
chair opposite his own. "I've got something to say to you, something
serious."
"Father," said the girl, looking him full in the face, pale to the lips,
but very firm, "I don't think you're in a state to talk seriously of
anything."
"O, you don't, don't you, Miss Impudence? You think I'm drunk, perhaps.
You'll find that, drunk or sober, I've only one mind about you, and that
I mean to be obeyed. Sit down, I tell you. I'm not in the humour to stand
any nonsense to-night. Sit down."
Ellen obeyed this mandate, uttered with a fierceness unusual even in Mr.
Carley, who was never a soft-spoken man. She seated herself quietly on
the opposite side of the hearth, while her father took down his pipe from
the chimney-piece, and slowly filled it, with hands that trembled a
little over the accustomed task.
Pages:
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468