This Man's Wife. Fenn George Manville
with no unkindly intent; but the call was like a command – an imperious command, such as would be given to a dog.
The child was nearly close to him when he gave the paper a sharp rustle, and she sprang back.
“Pish!” he exclaimed, laughing unpleasantly, “what a silly little girl you are! Did you think I was going to strike you?”
“N-no, papa,” said the child nervously.
“Then why did you flinch away? Are you afraid of me?”
The child looked at him intently for a few moments, and then said softly:
“I don’t know.”
“Here, Thisbe,” said Hallam, frowning, “I’ll see to that. You can go now. Leave Miss Julia here.”
“Mayn’t I go with Thisbe, papa?” said the child eagerly.
“No; stay with me. I want to talk to you. Come here.”
The child’s countenance fell, and she sidled towards Hallam, looking wistfully the while at Thisbe, who left the room reluctantly and closed the door.
As soon as they were alone Hallam threw down the paper, and drew the child upon his knee, stroking her beautiful, long, dark hair, and held his face towards her.
“Well,” he said sharply, “haven’t you a kiss for papa?”
The child kissed him on both cheeks quickly, and then sat still and watched him.
“That’s better,” he said smiling. “Little girls always get rewards when they are good. Now I shall buy you a new doll for that.”
The child’s eyes brightened.
“Have you got plenty of money, papa?” she said quickly.
“Well, I don’t know about plenty,” he said with a curious laugh, as he glanced round the handsomely-furnished room, “but enough for that.”
“Will you give me some?”
“Money is not good for little girls,” said Hallam, smiling.
“But I’m not little now,” said the child quietly. “Mamma says I’m quite a companion to her, and she doesn’t know what she would do without me.”
“Indeed!” said Hallam sarcastically. “Well, suppose I give you some money, what shall you buy – a doll?”
She shook her head. “I’ve got five dolls now,” she said, counting on her little pink fingers, “mamma, papa, Thisbe, and me, and Mr Bayle.”
Hallam ground out an ejaculation, making the child start from him in alarm.
“Sit still, little one,” he said hastily. “Why, what’s the matter? Here, what would you do with the money?”
“Give it to mamma to pay Thisbe. Mamma was crying about wanting some money yesterday for grand-mamma.”
“Did your grandmother come and ask mamma for money yesterday?”
“Yes; she said grandpapa was so ill and worried that she did not know what to do.”
Hallam rose from his seat, setting down the child, and began walking quickly about the room, while the girl, after watching him for a few moments in silence, began to edge her way slowly towards the door, as if to escape.
She had nearly reached it when Hallam noticed her, and, catching her by the wrist, led her back to his chair, and reseated himself.
“Look here, Julia,” he said sharply, “I will not have you behave like this. Does your mother teach you to keep away from me because I seem so cross?” he added with a laugh that was not pleasant.
“No,” said the child, shaking her head; “she said I was to be very fond of you, because you were my dear papa.”
“Well, and are you?”
“Yes,” said the child, nodding, “I think so;” and she looked wistfully in his face.
“That’s right; and now be a good girl, and you shall have a pony to ride, and everything you like to ask for.”
“And money to give to poor mamma?”
“Silence!” cried Hallam harshly, and the child shrank away, and covered her face with her hands. “Don’t do that! Take down your hands. What have you to cry for now?”
The child dropped her hands in a frightened manner, and looked at him with her large dark eyes, that seemed to be watching for a blow, her face twitching slightly, but there were no tears.
“Any one would think I was a regular brute to the child,” he muttered, scowling at her involuntarily, and then sitting very thoughtful and quiet, holding her on his knee, while he thrust back the breakfast things, and tapped the table. At last, turning to her with a smile, “Have a cup of coffee, Julie?” he said.
She shook her head. “I had my breakfast with mamma ever so long since.”
He frowned again, looking uneasily at the child, and resuming the tapping upon the table with his thin, white fingers.
The window looking out on the market place was before them, quiet, sunny, and with only two people visible, Mrs Pinet, watering her row of flowers with a jug, and the half of old Gemp, as he leaned out of his doorway, and looked in turn up the street and down.
All at once a firm, quick step was heard, and the child leaped from her father’s knee.
“Here’s Mr Bayle! Here’s Mr Bayle!” she cried, clapping her hands, and, bounding to the window, she sprang upon a chair, to press her face sidewise to the pane, to watch for him who came, and then to begin tapping on the glass, and kissing her hands as Christie Bayle, a firm, broad-shouldered man, nodded and smiled, and went by.
Julia leaped from the chair to run out of the room, leaving Robert Hallam clutching the edge of the table, with his brow wrinkled, and an angry frown upon his countenance, as he ground his teeth together, and listened to the opening of the front door, and the mingling of the curate’s frank, deep voice with the silvery prattle of his child.
“Ha, little one!” And then there was the sound of kisses, as Hallam heard the rustle of what seemed, through the closed door, to be Christie Bayle taking the child by the waist and lifting her up to throw her arms about his neck.
“You’re late!” she cried; and the very tone of her voice seemed changed, as she spoke eagerly.
“No, no, five minutes early; and I must go up the town first now.”
“Oh!” cried the child.
“I shall not be long. How is mamma?”
“Mamma isn’t well,” said the child. “She has been crying so.”
“Hush! hush! my darling!” said Bayle softly. “You should not whisper secrets.”
“Is that a secret, Mr Bayle?”
“Yes; mamma’s secret, and my Julia must be mamma’s well-trusted little girl.”
“Please, Mr Bayle, I’m so sorry, and I won’t do so any more. Are you cross with me?”
“My darling!” he cried passionately, “as if any one could be cross with you! There, get your books ready, and I’ll soon be back.”
“No, no, not this morning, Mr Bayle; not books. Take me for a walk, and teach me about the flowers.”
“After lessons, then. There, run away.”
Hallam rose from his chair, with his lips drawn slightly from his teeth, as he heard Bayle’s retiring steps. Then the front door was banged loudly; he heard his child clap her hands, and then the quick fall of her feet as she skipped across the hall, and bounded up the stairs.
He took a few strides up and down the room, but stopped short as the door opened again, and, handsomer than ever, but with a graver, more womanly beauty, heightened by a pensive, troubled look in her eyes and about the corners of her mouth, Millicent Hallam glided in.
Her