ut I must hear you say that you renounce her."

"Renounce her, false harpy! Ay, with all my heart."

"But I won't have her called out of her name."

"She is false."

"Hold your tongue, or I'll drop into you. They're all more or less
false, no doubt; but I won't have you say so of her. And since you're
so ready about the renouncing, suppose you put it on paper--'I
renounce my right to the hand and heart of Maryanne Brown.' You've
got pen and ink there;--just put it down."

"It shall not need," said Robinson.

"Oh, but it does need. It'll put an end to a world of trouble and
make her see that the thing is all settled. It can't be any sorrow to
you, because you say she's a false harpy."

"Nevertheless, I love her."

"So do I love her; and as I'm beginning to see my way, why, of
course, I mean to have her. We can't both marry her; can we?"

"No; not both," said Robinson. "Certainly not both."

"Then you just write as I bid you," said Brisket.

"Bid me, sir!"

"Well,--ask you; if that will make it easier."

"And what if I don't?"

"Why, I shall drop into you. That's all about it. There's the pen,
ink, and paper; you'd better do it."

Not at first did Robinson write those fatal words by which he gave up
all his right to her he loved; but before that interview was ended
the words were written. "What matters it?" he said, at last, just as
Brisket had actually risen from his seat to put his vile threat into
execution. "Has not she renounced me?"

"Yes," said Brisket, "she has done that certainly."

"Had she been true to me," continued Robinson, "to do her a pleasure
I would have stood up before you till you had beaten me into the
likeness of one of your own carcases."

"That's what I should have done, too."

"But now;--why should I suffer now?"

"No, indeed; why should you?"

"I would thrash you if I could, for the pure pleasure."

"No doubt; no doubt."

"But it stands to reason that I can't. God, when He gave me power of
mind, gave you power of body."

"And a little common sense along with it, my friend. I'm generally
able to see my way, big as I look. Come; what's the good of arguing.
You're quick at writing, I know, and there's the paper."

Then George Robinson did write. The words were as follows;--"I
renounce the hand and heart of Maryanne Brown. I renounce them for
ever.--George Robinson."

On the night of that day, while the hammers were still ringing by
gaslight in the unfinished shop;