ess her!"

The farmer may have designed, by these eulogies of his niece, to give his
visitor time to recover his composure, and establish a common topic. His
diversion only irritated and confused our shame-eaten youth. Richard's
intention had been to come to the farmer's threshold: to summon the
farmer thither, and in a loud and haughty tone then and there to take
upon himself the whole burden of the charge against Tom Bakewell. He had
strayed, during his passage to Belthorpe, somewhat back to his old
nature; and his being compelled to enter the house of his enemy, sit in
his chair, and endure an introduction to his family, was more than he
bargained for. He commenced blinking hard in preparation for the horrible
dose to which delay and the farmer's cordiality added inconceivable
bitters. Farmer Blaize was quite at his ease; nowise in a hurry. He spoke
of the weather and the harvest: of recent doings up at the Abbey: glanced
over that year's cricketing; hoped that no future Feverel would lose a
leg to the game. Richard saw and heard Arson in it all. He blinked harder
as he neared the cup. In a moment of silence, he seized it with a gasp.

"Mr. Blaize! I have come to tell you that I am the person who set fire to
your rick the other night."

An odd consternation formed about the farmer's mouth. He changed his
posture, and said, "Ay? that's what ye're come to tell me sir?"

"Yes!" said Richard, firmly.

"And that be all?"

"Yes!" Richard reiterated.

The farmer again changed his posture. "Then, my lad, ye've come to tell
me a lie!"

Farmer Blaize looked straight at the boy, undismayed by the dark flush of
ire he had kindled.

"You dare to call me a liar!" cried Richard, starting up.

"I say," the farmer renewed his first emphasis, and smacked his thigh
thereto, "that's a lie!"

Richard held out his clenched fist. "You have twice insulted me. You have
struck me: you have dared to call me a liar. I would have apologized--I
would have asked your pardon, to have got off that fellow in prison. Yes!
I would have degraded myself that another man should not suffer for my
deed"--

"Quite proper!" interposed the farmer.

"And you take this opportunity of insulting me afresh. You're a coward,
sir! nobody but a coward would have insulted me in his own house."

"Sit ye down, sit ye down, young master," said the farmer, indicating the
chair and cooling the outburst with his hand. "Sit ye down. Don't ye be
hasty. If ye