circus. There was no danger in her doing
that, I know--and yet I'd have given almost everything I have, not to
let her be shown about as she is. But I was threatened again, in the
vilest, wickedest way--I hardly know how to tell it, gentlemen, in the
presence of such as you--Jubber, you must know--"

Just as Mrs. Peckover, with very painful hesitation, pronounced the
last words, the hall clock of the Rectory struck two. She heard it, and
stopped instantly.

"Oh, if you please, sir, was that two o'clock?" she asked, starting up
with a look of alarm.

"Yes, Mrs. Peckover," said the rector; "but really, after having been
indebted to you for so much that has deeply interested and affected us,
we can't possibly think of letting you and little Mary leave the Rectory
yet."

"Indeed we must, sir; and many thanks to you for wanting to keep us
longer," said Mrs. Peckover. "What I was going to say isn't much; it's
quite as well you shouldn't hear it--and indeed, indeed, ma'am, we must
go directly. I told this gentleman here, Mr. Blyth, when I come in, that
I'd stolen to you unawares, under pretense of taking little Mary out for
a walk. If we are not back to the two o'clock dinner in the circus,
it's unknown what Jubber may not do. This gentleman will tell you how
infamously he treated the poor child last night--we must go, sir, for
her sake; or else--"

"Stop!" cried Valentine, all his suppressed excitability bursting bounds
in an instant, as he took Mrs. Peckover by the arm, and pressed her back
into her chair. "Stop!--hear me; I must speak, or I shall go out of my
senses! Don't interrupt me, Mrs. Peckover; and don't get up. All I want
to say is this: you must never take that little angel of a child near
Jubber again--no, never! By heavens! if I thought he was likely to touch
her any more, I should go mad, and murder him!--Let me alone, doctor! I
beg Mrs. Joyce's pardon for behaving like this; I'll never do it again.
Be quiet, all of you! I must take the child home with me--oh, Mrs.
Peckover, don't, don't say no! I'll make her as happy as the day is
long. I've no child of my own: I'll watch over her, and love her, and
teach her all my life. I've got a poor, suffering, bedridden wife at
home, who would think such a companion as little Mary the greatest
blessing God could send her. My own dear, patient Lavvie! Oh, doctor,
doctor! think how kind Lavvie would be to that afflicted little child;
and try if you can't make Mrs.