‘Bin and ruined me, jest—­that’s all.’

’Oh! no, no, no, Dudley.  Ye know I wouldn’t.  I could not—­could not hurt ye, Dudley.  No, no, no!’

He grinned at her, and, with a sharp side-nod, said—­

‘Wait a bit.’

’Oh, Dudley, don’t be vexed, dear.  I did not mean it.  I would not hurt ye for all the world.  Never.’

’Well, never mind.  You and yours tricked me finely; and now you’ve got me—­that’s all.’

My uncle laughed a very odd laugh.

’I knew it, of course; and upon my word, madame, you and he make a very pretty couple,’ sneered Uncle Silas.

Dudley made no answer, looking, however, very savage.

And with this poor young wife, so recently wedded, the low villain had actually solicited me to marry him!

I am quite certain that my uncle was as entirely ignorant as I of Dudley’s connection, and had, therefore, no participation in this appalling wickedness.

’And I have to congratulate you, my good fellow, on having secured the affections of a very suitable and vulgar young woman.’

‘I baint the first o’ the family as a’ done the same,’ retorted Dudley.

At this taunt the old man’s fury for a moment overpowered him.  In an instant he was on his feet, quivering from head to foot.  I never saw such a countenance—­like one of those demon-grotesques we see in the Gothic side-aisles and groinings—­a dreadful grimace, monkey-like and insane—­and his thin hand caught up his ebony stick, and shook it paralytically in the air.

‘If ye touch me wi’ that, I’ll smash ye, by ——!’ shouted Dudley, furious, raising his hands and hitching his shoulder, just as I had seen him when he fought Captain Oakley.

For a moment this picture was suspended before me, and I screamed, I know not what, in my terror.  But the old man, the veteran of many a scene of excitement, where men disguise their ferocity in calm tones, and varnish their fury with smiles, had not quite lost his self-command.  He turned toward me and said—­

‘Does he know what he’s saying?’

And with an icy laugh of contempt, his high, thin forehead still flushed, he sat down trembling.

’If you want to say aught, I’ll hear ye.  Ye may jaw me all ye like, and I’ll stan’ it.’

‘Oh, I may speak?  Thank you,’ sneered Uncle Silas, glancing slowly round at me, and breaking into a cold laugh.

’Ay, I don’t mind cheek, not I; but you must not go for to do that, ye know.  Gammon.  I won’t stand a blow—­I won’t fro no one.

’Well, sir, availing myself of your permission to speak, I may remark, without offence to the young lady, that I don’t happen to recollect the name Mangles among the old families of England.  I presume you have chosen her chiefly for her virtues and her graces.’

Mrs. Sarah Matilda, not apprehending this compliment quite as Uncle Silas meant it, dropped a courtesy, notwithstanding her agitation, and, wiping her eyes, said, with a blubbered smile—­