Miss Harston was not well and needed a change of air. Now are
you satisfied?" He was determined to allay as far as possible any
suspicions that the girl might have previously formed.

"And what brings _you_ down here?" she asked, with the same searching
look. "You don't come down into this hole without some good reason.
I did think at first that you might come down in order to see me, but
you soon showed me that it wasn't that. There was a time when you was
fond of me."

"So I am now, lass."

"Ay, very fond! Not a word nor a look from you last time you came.
You must have some reason, though, that brings you here."

"There's nothing wonderful in a man coming to see his own father,"

"Much you cared for him in London," she cried, with a shrill laugh.
"If he was under the sod you would not be the sadder. It's my belief as
you come down after that doll-faced missy upstairs."

"Dry up, now!" said Ezra roughly. "I've had enough of your confounded
nonsense."

"You don't talk in that style to her," she said excitedly. "You scorn
me, but I know this, that if I can't have your love no one else shall.
I've got a dash of the gipsy in me, as you know. Rather than that girl
should have you, I would knife her and you, too!" She shook her
clenched right hand as she spoke, and her face was so full of vindictive
passion that Ezra was astonished.

"I always knew that you were a spitfire," he said, "but you never came
it quite so strong as this before."

The reaction had already come upon her, however, and tears were running
down her cheeks. "You'll never leave me entirely?" she cried, clasping
his arm. "I could bear to share your love with another, but I wouldn't
have you turn altogether against me."

"You'll have my father out presently with your damned noise!" said Ezra.
"Get away, and wash your face."

His word was law to her, and she turned away, still weeping bitterly.
In her poor, dim, eventless life the sole bright spot had been the
attention which the young merchant had occasionally shown her. To her
distorted fancy he was a man among men, a hero, all that was admirable
and magnificent. What was there which she would not do for him?
She had the faithfulness of a dog, but like a dog she would snarl
fiercely at any one who came between her master's affection and herself.
Deep down in her heart rankled the one suspicion which no assurances
could remove, that an understanding existed between the man she lo