“Only think, Fanny,” he said, “to be here alone with you!”
He called her Fanny now; he had always called her Miss Allen before.
“Yes,” said she, not knowing what answer to make.
“You are cold,” he added, with a little trembling in his voice and a little more light than usual in his eyes.
“Oh no, I am not cold.”
“I know you are,” and he took her hand; “why, it is quite cold.”
“Oh dear no, Mr. Thomas, it is really not cold,” and she made a movement to withdraw it, but it remained.
The touch of the hand caused his voice to shake a little more than before.
“I say you are cold; come a little closer to me. What will your mamma say if you catch a chill?” and he drew Fanny a little nearer to him. The thick blood now drove through him with increasing speed: everything seemed in a mist, and a little perspiration was on his forehead. His arm found its way round Fanny’s waist, and he pressed her closer and closer to him till his hot lips were upon her cheek. She made two or three futile attempts to release herself; but she might as well have striven with that brazen, red-hot idol who was made to clasp his victims to death. She was frightened and screamed, when suddenly a strong man’s voice was heard calling “Fanny, Fanny.” It was her brother. Knowing that she and Thomas had no umbrellas, he had brought them a couple.
“But, Fanny,” he cried, “did I not hear you scream? What was the matter?”
“Nothing,” hastily interposed Thomas; “she thought she saw it lighten.” Fanny looked at Thomas for a moment; but she was scared and bewildered, and held her peace.
The three went down to the rendezvous together, where the rest of the party had already assembled. Mrs. Broad had been very uneasy when she found that Thomas and Fanny were the only absentees, and she had urged George the moment she saw him to look for his sister without a moment’s delay. The excuse of the rain was given and accepted; but Mrs. Broad felt convinced from Fanny’s forward look that she had once more thrown herself in the way of her beloved child, her delicate Samuel. She was increasingly anxious that he should go to college, and his papa promised at once to transmit the application. Meanwhile, in the few days left before the examination, he undertook to improve Thomas where he was weakest, that is to say, in Systematic Theology, and more particularly in the doctrine of the Comforter.
XIX
“The Kingdom of Heaven Is Like Unto Leaven”
Mr. Isaac Allen, Fanny’s father, was an ardent Whig in politics—what in later years would have been called a Radical. He had been apprenticed in London, and had attended Mr. Bradshaw’s ministrations there. He was the chosen friend of Zachariah Coleman; but although he loved Zachariah, he had held but little intercourse with him during his first marriage. There were family reasons for the estrangement, due principally to a quarrel between Mrs. Isaac and the first Mrs. Zachariah. But after Mrs. Zachariah had died and her husband suffered so much Isaac was drawn to him again. He was proud of him as a martyr for a good cause, and he often saw him when he went to London on business.
It was in consequence of these London visits that books appeared on the little bookshelf in Cowfold Square which were to be found nowhere else in the town, at any rate not in the Dissenting portion of it. It was a little bookcase, it is true, for people in country places were not great readers in those days; but Sir Walter Scott was there, and upstairs in Mr. Allen’s room there was Byron—not an uncut copy, but one well used both by husband and wife. Mrs. Allen was not a particularly robust woman, although she was energetic. Often without warning, she would not make her appearance till twelve or one o’clock in the day, and would have her fire alight in her bedroom and take her breakfast in bed. It was well
