from him. He vowed her tears were a mockery, and her intention of confessing a lie. He met all her efforts at explanation, and all her attempts to pacify him, at sword-point.

She bore it patiently for a while; and then Will Anneys saw an Aspatria he had never dreamed of. She seemed to grow taller; she did really grow taller; her face flamed, her eyes flashed, and, in a voice authoritative and irresistible, she commanded him to desist.

“You are my worst enemy,” she said. “You are as deaf as the village gossips. You will not listen to the truth. Your abuse, heard by every servant in the house, 163 certifies all that malice dares to think. And in wounding my honour you are a parricide to our mother’s good name! I am ashamed of you, Will!”

163

From head to foot she reflected the indignation in her heart, as she stood erect with her hands clasped and the palms dropped downward, no sign of tears, no quiver of fear or doubt, no retreat, and no submission, in her face or attitude.

“Why, whatever is the matter with you, Aspatria?”

At this moment Brune entered, and she went to him, and put her hand through his arm, and said: “Brune, speak for me! Will has insulted mother and father, through me, in such a way that I can never forgive him!”

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Will Anneys!” And Brune put his sister gently behind him, and then marched squarely up to his brother’s face. “You are as passionate as a brute beast, Will, and that, too, with a poor little lass that has her own troubles, and has borne 164 them like—like a good woman always does.”

164

“I do not want to hear you speak, Brune.”

“Ay, but I will speak, and you shall hear me. I tell you, Aspatria is in no kind to blame. The man came on her sudden, out of the plantation. She did not take his hand, she did not listen to him. She sent him about his business as quick as might be.”

“Lottie Patterson saw her,” said Will, dourly.

“Because Aspatria called Lottie Patterson to her; and if Lottie Patterson says she saw anything more or worse than ought to be, I will pretty soon call upon Seth Patterson to make his sister’s words good. Cush! I will that! And what is more, Will Anneys, if you do not know how to take care of your 

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