He brushed off the hand she had laid upon his shoulder, and muttered, with bad humor:
"I've told you a dozen times I don't want you to sit up for me. Fetch the brandy and glasses, and go to bed."
"Oh, Philip, it is so late! Don't drink: to-night, Philip. You are wet, and you look tired. Come to bed."
"Do as I tell you," he answered, roughly, flinging himself into a chair, and beckoning Bradshaw to a seat. Miranda sighed, and brought the bottle and glasses from the closet.
"Now, you go to sleep, do you hear; and don't be whining and crying all night, like a sick girl."
The poor girl moved slowly to the door, and turned at the threshold.
"Oh, good night--there, get along," he cried, impatiently, without looking at her, and gulping down a tumblerful of spirits. Miranda closed the door and left the two men alone together.
They remained silent for a while, Bradshaw quietly sipping his liquor, and Philip evidently disturbed and angry.
"You're sure 'twas she?" he asked at last.
"Oh, bother!" replied Bradshaw. "I'm not a mole nor a blind man. Don't I know Moll when I see her?"
"Curse her! she'll stick to me like a leech. What could have brought her here? Do you think she's tracked me?"
"She'd track you through fire, if she once got on the scent. Moll ain't the gal to be fooled, and you know it."
"Move out of this. Take the girl to Virginia. You'll be safe enough there."
"You're right, Bradshaw. It's the best way. I ought to have done it at first. But, hang the girl, she'll weary me to death with her sermons and crying fits. Moll's worth two of her for that, matter--she scolds, but at least she never would look like a stuck fawn when I came home a little queer. For the matter of that, she don't mind a spree herself at times." And, emptying his glass, the libertine laughed at the remembrance of some past orgies.
While he was thus, in his half-drunken mood, consoling himself for present perplexities by dwelling upon the bacchanalian joys of other days, a carriage drove up the street, and stopped before the door. Soon afterward, the hall bell was rung, and Philip, alarmed and astonished, started from his seat.
"Who's that?" he asked, almost in a whisper.
"She couldn't have traced me here already--unless you have betrayed me, Bradshaw," he added suddenly, darting a suspicious glance upon his comrade.
