h which females rarely sympathize;
which, on the contrary, they are inclined to consider a mean and
cowardly terror on the part of their male oppressors.

"Hush! hold your infernal squall--do!" said Mr. Avenel, in a tone that
he meant to be soothing. "There--sit down--and don't stir till I come
back again, and can talk to you calmly. Leonard, follow me, and help to
explain things to our guests."

Leonard stood still, but shook his head slightly.

"What do you mean, sir?" said Richard Avenel, in a very portentous
growl. "Shaking your head at me? Do you intend to disobey me? You had
better take care!"

Leonard's front rose; he drew one arm round his mother, and thus he
spoke:

"Sir, you have been kind to me, and generous, and that thought alone
silenced my indignation, when I heard you address such language to my
mother; for I felt that, if I spoke, I should say too much. Now I speak,
and it is to say shortly that--"

"Hush, boy," said poor Mrs. Fairfield, frightened; "don't mind me. I did
not come to make mischief, and ruin your prospex. I'll go!"

"Will you ask her pardon, Mr. Avenel?" said Leonard, firmly; and he
advanced toward his uncle.

Richard, naturally hot and intolerant of contradiction, was then
excited, not only by the angry emotions which it must be owned, a man so
mortified, and in the very flush of triumph, might well experience, but
by much more wine than he was in the habit of drinking; and when Leonard
approached him, he misinterpreted the movement into one of menace and
aggression. He lifted his arm: "Come a step nearer," said he, between
his teeth, "and I'll knock you down." Leonard advanced that forbidden
step; but as Richard caught his eye, there was something in that
eye--not defying, not threatening, but bold and dauntless--which
Richard recognized and respected, for that something spoke the freeman.
The uncle's arm mechanically fell to his side.

"You can not strike me, Mr. Avenel," said Leonard, "for you are aware
that I could not strike again my mother's brother. As her son, I once
more say to you--ask her pardon."

"Ten thousand devils! Are you mad?--or do you want to drive me mad? you
insolent beggar, fed and clothed by my charity. Ask her pardon! what
for? That she has made me the object of jeer and ridicule with that d--d
cotton gown, and those double-d--d thick shoes? I vow and protest
they've got nails in them! Hark ye, sir, I've been insulted by her, but
I'm not to be bullie