As the name passed my lips, a look of hate
and rage flashed out of his burning eyes. I did not utter another
word, nor did he; and we separated in silence.
It was evening, and I was returning in a gig from a rather long
journey into the country, when I called, in redemption of my promise,
upon James Dutton. Annie was really, I found, an engaging, pretty,
blue-eyed, golden-haired child; and I was not so much surprised at her
grandfather's doting fondness--a fondness entirely reciprocated, it
seemed, by the little girl. It struck me, albeit, that it was a
perilous thing for a man of Dutton's vehement, fiery nature to stake
again, as he evidently had done, his all of life and happiness upon
one frail existence. An illustration of my thought or fear occurred
just after we had finished tea. A knock was heard at the outer-door,
and presently a man's voice, in quarrelling, drunken remonstrance with
the servant who opened it. The same deadly scowl I had seen sweep over
Dutton's countenance upon the mention of Hamblin's name, again gleamed
darkly there; and finding, after a moment or two, that the intruder
would not be denied, the master of the house gently removed Annie from
his knee, and strode out of the room.
'Follow grandpapa,' whispered Mrs Rivers, a highly respectable widow
of about forty years of age, whom Mr Dutton had engaged at a high
salary to superintend Annie's education.
Pages:
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39