would have no more of the
conversation. But Mrs. Cat was not to be satisfied,--not she,--and
carried on her cross-questions.

"Why, look you," said the Corporal, after parrying many of these,--"Why,
look you, I'm an old fool, Catherine, and I must blab. That man has been
the best friend I ever had, and so I was quiet; but I can't keep it in
any longer,--no, hang me if I can! It's my belief he's acting like a
rascal by you: he deceives you, Catherine; he's a scoundrel, Mrs. Hall,
that's the truth on't."

Catherine prayed him to tell all he knew; and he resumed.

"He wants you off his hands; he's sick of you, and so brought here that
fool Tom Trippet, who has taken a fancy to you. He has not the courage
to turn you out of doors like a man; though indoors he can treat you
like a beast. But I'll tell you what he'll do. In a month he will go to
Coventry, or pretend to go there, on recruiting business. No such thing,
Mrs. Hall; he's going on MARRIAGE business; and he'll leave you without
a farthing, to starve or to rot, for him. It's all arranged, I tell you:
in a month, you are to be starved into becoming Tom Trippet's
mistress; and his honour is to marry rich Miss Dripping, the
twenty-thousand-pounder from London; and to purchase a regiment;--and to
get old Brock drummed out of Cutts's too," said the Corporal, under his
breath. But he might have spoken out, if he chose; for the poor young
woman had sunk on the ground in a real honest fit.

"I thought I should give it her," said Mr. Brock as he procured a glass
of water; and, lifting her on to a sofa, sprinkled the same over her.
"Hang it! how pretty she is."

*****

When Mrs. Catherine came to herself again, Brock's tone with her was
kind, and almost feeling. Nor did the poor wench herself indulge in
any subsequent shiverings and hysterics, such as usually follow the
fainting-fits of persons of higher degree. She pressed him for further
explanations, which he gave, and to which she listened with a great deal
of calmness; nor did many tears, sobs, sighs, or exclamations of sorrow
or anger escape from her: only when the Corporal was taking his leave,
and said to her point-blank,--"Well, Mrs. Catherine, and what do you
intend to do?" she did not reply a word; but gave a look which made him
exclaim, on leaving the room,--

"By heavens! the woman means murder! I would not be the Holofernes to
lie by the side of such a Judith as that--not I!" And he we