rmly planted upon the closed desk, her
face rigidly set, to receive her visitor--keeping the table between him
and herself. He was advancing to take her hand.

"Stand there," she said, with an authority he had not the courage to
defy. He stood there--abashed, or hesitating as to the way in which he
should enter upon his business.

"Well!" Mrs. Rowe said, firmly and impatiently.

Mr. Charles, stung by the manner, turned upon his victim. "Well!" he
jeered, "yes, and well again, Mrs. Rowe. Is it necessary for me to
explain myself? Do you think I have come to see _you_!"

"I have no money at present; I wrote you so."

"And I didn't believe you, and have come to fetch what you wouldn't
send. If you think I'm going into a corner to starve for your personal
satisfaction, you are very much mistaken. I'm surprised you don't
understand me better by this time."

"You were a rascal, Charles, before you left school."

"School! Pretty school! D--n it, don't blame me--woman!"

Mrs. Rowe was alarmed by the outburst, lest it should wake some of the
boarders.

"The Dean and his lady are sleeping overhead. If you don't respect me,
think----"

"I'm not here to respect, or think about anybody. I'm cast alone into
the world--tossed into it; left to shift for myself, and to be ashamed
of myself; and I want a little help through it, and it's for you to give
it me, and give it me YOU SHALL."

Mr. Charles held out his left hand, and slapped its open palm vehemently
with his right--pantomime to indicate the exact whereabouts he had
selected for the reception of Mrs. Rowe's money.

"I told you I had no money. You'll drive me from this house by bringing
disgrace upon it."

"That's very good," Mr. Charles said, with a cruel laugh. "That's a
capital joke."

Jane entered with coffee. "That's right," she whispered, encouragingly
to Mr. Charles; "laugh and be cheerful, Mr. Charles, and make haste with
your coffee."

The face of Mr. Charles blackened to night. He turned like a tiger upon
the servant. "Laugh and be cheerful?" he roared; and then he raised a
hoarse mock laugh, that moved Mrs. Rowe, in her agony of fear, to turn
the key in the lock of her desk.

Shaking her hands wildly in the air, Jane left the room, and shut the
door.

"You are an arrant coward, Charles," Mrs. Rowe hissed, leaning across
the table and shaking her head violently.

Mr. Charles imitated her gesture, answering--"I am what heartless people
have made me