tion of my ambition--of all
I had set my heart on, and that I perilled my soul to accomplish? Yes,
you villain, your eye was smiling--elated--your heart was glad--for,
sirrah, you hate me at heart."

"God! oh, oh! a'm--a'm--ur-urr-urrr--whee-ee-ee-hee-hee-hee. God
ha-ha-ha-have mer-mer-mercy on my sinf-sinfu-l sou-so-soul! a'm gone."

"Yes, you hate me, villain, and this is a triumph to you; every one
hates me, and every one will rejoice at my shame. I know it, you
accursed miscreant, I feel it; and in return I hate, with more than the
malignity of the devil, every human creature that God has made. I have
been at enmity with them, and in that enmity I shall persist; deep and
dark as hell shall it be, and unrelenting as the vengeance of a devil.
There," he added, throwing the almost senseless body of Crackenfudge
over on a sofa, "there, you may rest on that sofa, and get breath; get
breath quickly, and mark, obey me."

"Yes, Sir Thomas, a' will; a'll do anything, provided that you'll let me
escape with my life. God! a'm nearly dead, the fire's not out of my eyes
yet."

"Silence, you wretched slave!" shouted the baronet, stamping with rage;
not another word of complaint, but listen to n--listen to me, I say: go
on, and let me hear, fully and at large, the withering history of this
burning and most flagitious disgrace."

"But if a' do, you'll only beat and throttle me to death, Sir Thomas."

"Whether I may or may not do so, go on, villain, and--go on, that
quickly, or by heavens I shall tear the venomous heart from your body,
and trample the black intelligence out of it. Proceed instantly."

With a face of such distress as our readers may well imagine, and a
voice whose quavers of terror wrere in admirable accordance with it,
the unfortunate Crackenfudge related the circumstance of Lucy's visit to
Dublin, as he considered it, and, in fact, so far as he was acquainted
with her motions, as it appeared to him a decided elopement, without the
possibility of entertaining either doubt or mistake about it.

In the meantime, how shall we describe the savage fury of the baronet,
as the trembling wretch proceeded? It is impossible. His rage, the
vehemence of his gestures, the spasms that seemed to sey;e sometimes
upon his features and sometimes upon his limbs, as well as upon
different parts of his body, transformed him into the appearance of
something that was unnatural and frightful. He bit his lips in the
effort to restr