Dynevor Terrace, vol 1 | Page 5

right! He only forgot--I hear Mrs. Beckett telling him
he'd forget his own head if it wasn't fixed on, and Mr. James is always

at him.'
'Forget! Aye, there's nothing gentlefolks forget like poor folks. But I've
done with he! Let him look out--I kept my promises to him long
enough, but if he don't keep his'n--'
'For shame, for shame, Tom! You don't mean it!' cried Charlotte. 'But,
oh!' with a different tone, 'give me the mat! There's the old Lord and
Mr. Poynings riding down the terrace!'
'I ain't ashamed of nothing!' said the lad, proudly; and as Charlotte
snatched away the mats, and vanished like a frightened hare, he stalked
along like a village Hampden, muttering, 'The old tyrant shall see
whether I'm to be trampled on!' and with both hands in his pockets, he
gazed straight up into the face of the grave elderly gentleman, who
never even perceived him. He could merely bandy glances with
Poynings, the groom, and he was so far from indifferent that he
significantly lifted up the end of his whip. Nothing could more have
gratified Tom, who retorted with a grimace and murmur, 'Don't you
wish you may catch me? You jealous syc--what is the word, sick of
uncles or aunts, was it, that the orator called 'em? He'd say I'd a good
miss of being one of that sort, and that my young Lord there opened my
eyes in time. No better than the rest of 'em--'
And the clock striking eight, he quickened his pace to return to his
work. He had for the two or three previous years been nominally under
the gardener at Ormersfield, but really a sort of follower and favourite
to the young heir, Lord Fitzjocelyn--a position which had brought on
him dislike from the superior servants, who were not propitiated by his
independent and insubordinate temper. Faults on every side had led to
his dismissal; but Lord Fitzjocelyn had placed him at an ironmonger's
shop in the town of Northwold, where he had been just long enough to
become accessible to the various temptations of a lad in such a
situation.
Charlotte sped hastily round the end of the block of buildings, hurried
down the little back garden, and flew breathlessly into her own kitchen,
as a haven of refuge, but she found a tall, stiff starched, elderly woman
standing just within the door, and heard her last words.
'Well! as I said, 'tis no concern of mine; only I thought it the part of a
friend to give you a warning, when I seen it with my own eyes!- Ah!
here she is!' as Charlotte dropped into a chair. 'Yes, yes, Miss, you need

not think to deceive me; I saw you from Miss Mercy's window--'
'Saw what?' faintly exclaimed Charlotte.
'You know well enough,' was the return. 'You may think to blind Mrs.
Beckett here, but I know what over good-nature to young girls comes
to. Pretty use to make of your fine scholarship, to be encouraging
followers and sweethearts, at that time in the morning too!'
'Speak up, Charlotte,' said the other occupant of the room, a pleasant
little brisk woman, with soft brown, eyes, a clear pale skin, and a face
smooth, in spite of nearly sixty years; 'speak up, and tell Mrs. Martha
the truth, that you never encouraged no one.'
The girl's face was all one flame, but she rose up, and clasping her
hands together, exclaimed--'Me encourage! I never thought of what
Mrs. Martha says! I don't know what it is all about!'
'Here, Jane Beckett,' cried Mrs. Martha; 'd'ye see what 'tis to vindicate
her! Will you take her word against mine, that she's been gossiping this
half hour with that young rogue as was turned off at Ormersfield?'
'Tom Madison! cried the girl, in utter amaze. 'Oh! Mrs. Martha!'
'Well! I can't stop!' said Martha. 'I must get Miss Faithfull's breakfast!
but if you was under me, Miss Charlotte, I can tell you it would be
better for you! You'll sup sorrow yet, and you'll both recollect my
advice, both of you.'
Wherewith the Cassandra departed, and Charlotte, throwing her apron
over her face, began to cry and sob piteously.
'My dear! what is it now? exclaimed her kind companion, pulling down
her apron, and trying to draw down first one, then the other of the arms
which persisted in veiling the crimson face. 'Surely you don't think
missus or I would mistrust you, or think you'd take up with the likes of
him!'
'How could she be so cruel--so spiteful,' sobbed Charlotte, 'when he
only came to ask one question, and did a good turn for me with the
mats. I never thought of such a thing. Sweetheart, indeed! So cruel of
her!'
'Bless me!'