Lady Audley’s Secret, M. E. Braddon [good books to read for young adults TXT] 📗

as she courtesied to Mr. Robert Audley, and her smile, which laid bare the greater part of this set of square, hungry-looking teeth, by no means added to the beauty of her personal appearance.

“Mr. Maldon is not at home, sir,” she said, with insinuating civility; “but if it’s for the water-rate, he requested me to say that⁠—”

She was interrupted by little George Talboys, who scrambled down from the high chair upon which he had been perched, and ran to Robert Audley.

“I know you,” he said; “you came to Ventnor with the big gentleman, and you came here once, and you gave me some money, and I gave it to gran’pa to take care of, and gran’pa kept it, and he always does.”

Robert Audley took the boy in his arms, and carried him to a little table in the window.

“Stand there, Georgey,” he said, “I want to have a good look at you.”

He turned the boy’s face to the light, and pushed the brown curls off his forehead with both hands.

“You are growing more like your father every day, Georgey; and you’re growing quite a man, too,” he said; “would you like to go to school?”

“Oh, yes, please, I should like it very much,” the boy answered, eagerly. “I went to school at Miss Pevins’ once⁠—day-school, you know⁠—round the corner in the next street; but I caught the measles, and gran’pa wouldn’t let me go any more, for fear I should catch the measles again; and gran’pa won’t let me play with the little boys in the street, because they’re rude boys; he said blackguard boys; but he said I mustn’t say blackguard boys, because it’s naughty. He says damn and devil, but he says he may because he’s old. I shall say damn and devil when I’m old; and I should like to go to school, please, and I can go today, if you like; Mrs. Plowson will get my frocks ready, won’t you, Mrs. Plowson?”

“Certainly, Master Georgey, if your grandpapa wishes it,” the woman answered, looking rather uneasily at Mr. Robert Audley.

“What on earth is the matter with this woman,” thought Robert as he turned from the boy to the fair-haired widow, who was edging herself slowly toward the table upon which little George Talboys stood talking to his guardian. “Does she still take me for a tax-collector with inimical intentions toward these wretched goods and chattels; or can the cause of her fidgety manner lie deeper still. That’s scarcely likely, though; for whatever secrets Lieutenant Maldon may have, it’s not very probable that this woman has any knowledge of them.”

Mrs. Plowson had edged herself close to the little table by this time, and was making a stealthy descent upon the boy, when Robert turned sharply round.

“What are you going to do with the child?” he said.

“I was only going to take him away to wash his pretty face, sir, and smooth his hair,” answered the woman, in the most insinuating tone in which she had spoken of the water-rate. “You don’t see him to any advantage, sir, while his precious face is dirty. I won’t be five minutes making him as neat as a new pin.”

She had her long, thin arms about the boy as she spoke, and she was evidently going to carry him off bodily, when Robert stopped her.

“I’d rather see him as he is, thank you,” he said. “My time in Southampton isn’t very long, and I want to hear all that the little man can tell me.”

The little man crept closer to Robert, and looked confidingly into the barrister’s gray eyes.

“I like you very much,” he said. “I was frightened of you when you came before, because I was shy. I am not shy now⁠—I am nearly six years old.”

Robert patted the boy’s head encouragingly, but he was not looking at little George; he was watching the fair-haired widow, who had moved to the window, and was looking out at the patch of waste ground.

“You’re rather fidgety about someone, ma’am, I’m afraid,” said Robert.

She colored violently as the barrister made this remark, and answered him in a confused manner.

“I was looking for Mr. Maldon, sir,” she said; “he’ll be so disappointed if he doesn’t see you.”

“You know who I am, then?”

“No, sir, but⁠—”

The boy interrupted her by dragging a little jeweled watch from his bosom and showing it to Robert.

“This is the watch the pretty lady gave me,” he said. “I’ve got it now⁠—but I haven’t had it long, because the jeweler who cleans it is an idle man, gran’pa says, and always keeps it such a long time; and gran’pa says it will have to be cleaned again, because of the taxes. He always takes it to be cleaned when there’s taxes⁠—but he says if he were to lose it the pretty lady would give me another. Do you know the pretty lady?”

“No, Georgey, but tell me about her.”

Mrs. Plowson made another descent upon the boy. She was armed with a pocket-handkerchief this time, and displayed great anxiety about the state of little George’s nose, but Robert warded off the dreaded weapon, and drew the child away from his tormentor.

“The boy will do very well, ma’am,” he said, “if you’ll be good enough to let him alone for five minutes. Now, Georgey, suppose you sit on my knee, and tell me all about the pretty lady.”

The child clambered from the table onto Mr. Audley’s knees, assisting his descent by a very unceremonious manipulation of his guardian’s coat-collar.

“I’ll tell you all about the pretty lady,” he said, “because I like you very much. Gran’pa told me not to tell anybody, but I’ll tell you, you know, because I like you, and because you’re going to take me to school. The pretty lady came here one night⁠—long ago⁠—oh, so long ago,” said the boy, shaking his head, with a face whose solemnity was expressive of some prodigious lapse of time. “She came when I was not nearly so big as I am now⁠—and she came at night⁠—after I’d gone to bed, and she came