f speech.

"You have disregarded all my quiet interference in the miserable lad's
behalf," said Nicholas; "you have returned no answer to the letter in
which I begged forgiveness for him, and offered to be responsible that he
would remain quietly here. Don't blame me for this public interference.
You have brought it upon yourself; not I."

"Sit down, beggar!" screamed Squeers, almost beside himself with rage, and
seizing Smike as he spoke.

"Wretch," rejoined Nicholas, fiercely, "touch him at your peril! I will
not stand by and see it done. My blood is up, and I have the strength of
ten such men as you. Look to yourself, for by Heaven I will not spare you,
if you drive me on!"

"Stand back," cried Squeers, brandishing his weapon.

"I have a long series of insults to avenge," said Nicholas, flushed with
passion; "and my indignation is aggravated by the dastardly cruelties
practised on helpless infancy in this foul den. Have a care; for if you do
rouse the devil within me, the consequences shall fall heavily upon your
own head!"

He had scarcely spoken, when Squeers, in a violent outbreak of wrath, and
with a cry like the howl of a wild beast, struck him a blow across the
face with his instrument of torture, which raised up a bar of livid flesh
as it was inflicted. Smarting with the agony of the blow, and
concentrating into that one moment all his feelings of rage, scorn, and
indignation, Nicholas sprang upon him, wrested the weapon from his hand,
and pinning him by the throat, beat the ruffian till he roared for mercy.

Then he hastily retired from the fray, leaving Squeers's family to restore
him as best they might. Seeking his room with all possible haste, Nicholas
considered seriously what course of action was best for him to adopt.

After a brief consideration, he packed up a few clothes in a small
leathern valise, and, finding that nobody offered to oppose his progress,
marched boldly out by the front door, and struck into the road which led
to Greta Bridge.

When he had cooled, sufficiently to be enabled to give his present
circumstances some little reflection, they did not appear in a very
encouraging light; he had only four shillings and a few pence in his
pocket, and was something more than two hundred and fifty miles from
London, whither he resolved to direct his steps.

He lay, that night, at a cottage where beds were let at a cheap rate to
the more humble class of travellers; and, rising betimes ne