, or give a thrust yet; but then the
cowardly hypocrite won't fight. When he has a set of military at his
back, and a parcel of unarmed peasants before him, or an unfortunate
priest or two, why, he's a dare devil--Hector was nothing to him; no,
confound me, nor mad Tom Simpson, that wears a sword on each side, and
a double case of pistols, to frighten the bailiffs. The scuundrel of
hell!--to impose on me, and insult my child!"

"Mr. Folliard," observed the clergyman calmly, "I can indeed scarcely
blame your indignation; it is natural; but, at the same time, it is
useless and unavailable. Be cool, and restrain your temper. Of course,
you could not think of bestowing your daughter, in marriage, upon this
man."

"I tell you what, Brown--I tell you what, my dear friend---let the
devil, Satan, Beelzebub, or whatever you call him from the pulpit--I
say, let him come here any time he pleases, in his holiday hoofs and
horns, tail and all, and he shall have her sooner than Whitecraft."

Mr. Brown could not help smiling, whilst he said:

"Of course, you will instantly dismiss this abandoned creature."

He started up and exclaimed, "Cog's 'ounds, what am I about?" He
instantly rang the bell, and a footman attended. "John, desire that
wench Herbert to come here."

"Do you mean Miss Herbert, sir?"

"I do--_Miss_ Herbert--egad, you've hit it; be quick, sirra."

John bowed and withdrew, and in a few minutes Miss Herbert entered.

"Miss Herbert," said the squire, "leave this house as fast as the devil
can drive you; and he has driven you to some purpose before now; ay,
and, I dare say, will again. I say, then, as fast as he can drive you,
pack up your luggage, and begone about your business. Ill just give you
ten minutes to disappear."

"What's all this about, master?"

"Master!--why, curse your brazen impudence, how dare you call me master?
Begone, you jade of perdition."

"No more a jade of perdition, sir, than you are; nor I shan't begone
till I gets a quarter's wages--I tell you that."

"You shall get whatever's coming to you; not another penny. The
house-steward will pay you--begone, I say!"

"No, sir, I shan't begone till I gets a, quarter's salary in full. You
broke your agreement with me, wich is wat no man as is a gentleman would
do; and you are puttin' me away, too, without no cause."

"Cause, you vagabond! you'll find the cause squalling, I suppose, in
Mary Mahon's cottage, somewhere near Sir Robert Whitecr