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"But there's no cat this time," said I, attempting a smile. "No, there's no cat," he replied. "And no " His eye turned toward the Faringfield garden gate, and he broke off with the question: "How are they? and your mother?"
"I beg your pardon, my lad. I am very sorry, indeed. Your being here, then, means that you are now an orphan?" "Yes, sir," was the boy's only answer, and he lowered his eyes toward his kitten, and so sad and lonely an expression came into his face that no wonder Mrs. Faringfield whispered again, "Poor lad," and even Madge and little Tom looked solemn.
By that time, if Heaven were kind, I thought, the charm of Captain Falconer would have lost power over Margaret's inclinations, and all would be well that ended well. One night in January, we had sat very late at cards in the Faringfield parlour, and my mother had just cried out, "Dear bless me, look at the clock!" when there sounded a dull, heavy pounding upon the rear hall door.
Faringfield was an exacting master, whose rule was that his men should never be idle, even at times when there seemed nothing to do. If no task was at hand, they should seek one; and if none could be found, he was like to manufacture one. Thus was Phil denied the pleasure of brightening or diversifying his day with reading, for which he could have found time enough.
So you see there's naught to hinder me exposing you for what you are the woman that mothered a British plot, and worked her trusting brother into it, and then betrayed him to her husband." "That's a lie!" cried Margaret, crimson in the face. "What does all this mean?" inquired Mr. Faringfield, rising.
Faringfield had paused to have the talk out ere they should come among the men at the warehouse, explained at first in vague terms, but finally in the explicit language to which his benefactor's questions forced him, that he seemed, in Master Ned's mind, to be standing in Ned's way; that he would not for the world appear to supplant any man's son, much less the son of one who had been so kind to him; that he had unintentionally been the cause of Ned's departure the evening before; and that he hoped his going would bring Ned back from the absence which caused his mother grief.
He was certainly bold enough when he received his father's cold greeting in the parlour, about nine o'clock at night. "And, pray, what circumstance gives us the honour of this visit?" asked Mr. Faringfield, not dissembling his disgust. "Why," says Mr.
But Captain Falconer must have known life, must have seen the hazards of his course. Therefore he was responsible in any view; and therefore I would do my utmost toward exacting payment from him. Plainly, in Philip's absence, the right fell to me, as his friend and Tom's nay, too, as the provisionally accepted husband of Mr. Faringfield's second daughter. Faringfield.
I must know, and I will know, what it is that my visit interferes with. You were not going out, I can see by your dress. Nor expecting company. Unless no, it couldn't be that! You're not capable of that! You are my wife, you are Margaret Faringfield, William Faringfield's daughter.
Sure enough, it was Fanny Faringfield, Madge's younger sister, coming along the street, her knuckles in her eyes, the tears streaming down her face; and behind her, with his fists in his coat pockets, and his cruel, sneering laugh on his bold, handsome face, came Ned, the eldest of the four Faringfield young ones.
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