Hide and Seek

you on my honor as a clergyman and a gentleman, that he will hold sacred the strict performance of all and each of these conditions, exactly as I have stated them.'

'I ought to let her go, sir—I know I ought to show how grateful I am for Mr. Blyth's generosity by letting her go—but how can I, after all the long time she's been like my own child to me? Oh, ma'am, say a word for me!—I seem so selfish for not giving her up—say a word for me!'

'Will you let me say a word for little Mary, instead?' rejoined Mrs. Joyce. 'Will you let me remind you that Mr. Blyth's proposal offers her a secure protection against that inhuman wretch who has ill-used her already, and who may often ill-use her again, in spite of everything you can do to prevent him. Pray think of that, Mrs. Peckover—pray do!'

Poor Mrs. Peckover showed that she thought of it bitterly enough, by a fresh burst of tears.

The rector poured out a glass of water, and gave it to her. 'Do not think us inconsiderate or unfeeling,' he said, 'in pressing Mr. Blyth's offer on you so perseveringly. Only reflect on Mary's position, if she remains in the circus as she grows up! Would all your watchful kindness be sufficient to shield her against dangers to which I hardly dare allude?—against wickedness which would take advantage of her defenselessness, her innocence, and even her misfortune? Consider all that Mr. Blyth's proposal promises for her future life; for the sacred preservation of her purity of heart and mind. Look forward to the day when little Mary will have gown up to be a young woman; and I will answer, Mrs. Peckover, for your doing full justice to the importance of my friend's offer.'

'I know it's all true, sir; I know I'm an ungrateful, selfish wretch—but only give me a little time to think; a little time longer to be with the poor darling that I love like my own child!'

Doctor Joyce was just drawing his chair closer to Mrs. Peckover before he answered, when the door opened, and the respectable Vance softly entered the room.

'What do you want here?' said the rector, a little irritably. 'Didn't I tell you not to come in again till I rang for you?'

'I beg your pardon, sir,' answered Vance, casting rather a malicious look at the clown's wife as he closed the door behind him—'but there's a person waiting in the hall, who says he comes on important business, and must see you directly.'

'Who is he? What's his name?'

'He says his name is Jubber, if you please, sir.'

Mrs. Peckover started from her chair with a scream. 'Don't—pray, for mercy's sake, sir, don't let him into the garden where Mary is!' she gasped, clutching Doctor Joyce by the arm in the extremity of her terror. 'He's found us out, and come here in one of his dreadful passions! He cares for nothing and for nobody, sir: he's bad enough to ill- treat her even before you. What am I to do? Oh, good gracious heavens! what am I to do?'

'Leave everything to me, and sit down again,' said the rector kindly. Then, turning to Vance, he added:—'Show Mr. Jubber into the cloak-room, and say I will be with him directly.'

'Now, Mrs. Peckover,' continued Doctor Joyce, in the most perfectly composed manner, 'before I see this man (whose business I can guess at) I have three important questions to ask of you. In the first place, were you not a witness, last night, of his cruel ill-usage of that poor child? (Mr. Blyth told me of it.) The fellow actually beat her, did he not?'

'Oh, indeed he did, sir!—beat her most cruelly with a cane.'

'And you saw it all yourself?'

'I did, sir. He'd have used her worse, if I hadn't been by to prevent him.'

'Very well. Now tell me if you or your husband have signed any agreement—any papers, I mean, giving this man a right to claim the child as one of his performers?'

'Me sign an agreement, sir! I never did such a thing in all my life. Jubber would think himself insulted, if you only talked of his signing an agreement with such as me or Jemmy.'

'Better and better. Now, my third question refers to little Mary herself. I will undertake to put it out of this blackguard's power ever to lay a finger on her again—but I can only do so on one condition, which it rests entirely with you to grant.'

'I'll do anything to save her, sir; I will indeed.'

'The condition is that you consent to Mr. Blyth's proposal; for I can only ensure the child's safety on those terms.'

'Then, sir, I consent to it,' said Mrs. Peckover, speaking with a sudden firmness of tone and manner which almost startled Mrs. Joyce, who stood by listening anxiously. 'I consent to it; for I should be the vilest wretch in the world, if I could say 'no' at such a time as this. I will trust my precious darling treasure to you, sir, and to Mr. Blyth; from this moment. God bless her, and comfort me! for I want comfort badly enough. Oh, Mary! Mary! my own little Mary! to think of you and me ever being parted like this!' The poor woman turned towards the garden as she pronounced those words; all her fortitude forsook her in an instant; and she sank back in her chair, sobbing bitterly.

'Take her out into the shrubbery where the children are, as soon as she recovers a little,' whispered the rector to his wife, as he opened the dining-room door.

Though Mr. Jubber presented, to all appearance, the most scoundrelly aspect that humanity can assume, when he was clothed in his evening uniform, and illuminated by his own circus lamplight, he nevertheless reached an infinitely loftier climax of blackguard perfection when he was arrayed in his private costume, and was submitted to the tremendous ordeal of pure daylight. The most monstrous ape that could be picked from the cages of the Zoological Gardens would have gained by comparison with him as he now appeared, standing in the Rectory cloak- room, with his debauched bloodshot eyes staring grimly contemptuous all about him, with his yellow flabby throat exposed by a turn-down collar and a light blue neck-tie, with the rouge still smeared over his gross unhealthy cheeks, with his mangy shirt-front bespattered with bad embroidery and false jewelry that had not even the politic decency to keep itself clean. He had his hat on, and was sulkily running his dirty fingers through the greasy black ringlets that flowed over his coat-collar, when Doctor Joyce entered the cloak-room.

'You wished to speak with me?' said the rector, not sitting down himself, and not asking Mr. Jubber to sit down.

'Oh! you're Doctor Joyce?' said the fellow, assuming his most insolent familiarity of manner directly.