Mary Gosport came to the tryst, but without Mr. Bassett.
Richard was very polite; she cold, taciturn, observant.
At last he said, "But where's the little heir?"
She flew at him directly. "It is him you wanted, not me. Did you think
I'd bring him here--for you to kill him?"
"Come, I say."
"Ay, you'd kill him if you had a chance. But you never shall. Or if you
didn't kill him, you'd cast the evil-eye on him, for you are well known
to have the evil-eye. No; he shall outlive thee and thine, and be lord
of these here manors when thou is gone to hell, thou villain."
Mr. Richard Bassett turned pale, but did the wisest thing he could--put
his hands in his pockets, and walked into his own premises, followed,
however, by Mary Gosport, who stormed at him till he shut his postern
in her face.
She stood there trembling for a little while, then walked away, crying.
But having a mind like running water, she was soon seated on a garden
chair, singing over her nursling like a mavis: she had delivered him to
Millar while she went to speak her mind to her old lover.
As for Richard Bassett, he was theory-bitten, and so turned every thing
one way. To be sure, as long as the woman's glaring eyes and face
distorted by passion were before him, he interpreted her words simply;
but when he thought the matter over he said to himself, "The evil-eye!
That is all bosh; the girl is in Lady Bassett's secrets; and I am not
to see young master: some day I shall know the reason why.
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