“Don’t scream, Annie. I have not hurt your brother; but he must have a lesson,” he says, as he picked up the whip which has dropped, breaks it, in two, and throws the pieces in a corner. “Get up, you dolt, and ask your sister’s pardon,” he adds, severely, “for brawling in her presence.” Sam Brown does get up, stupidly and slowly, looks around him bewildered, with a dazed, blind look. “You hits uncommon hard,” he mutters, when he becomes fully alive to the position which he occupies. “Certainly, I hit hard when I hit at all. You insulted me and, more gravely still, your sister. I am perfectly ready to marry her; but she will not marry me. Can you put that into your brain and understand it?” Sam stares and rubs his aching head. “Lord, sir, do you mean as Hann hev jilted you?” “Oh, Sam, how can you!” cries his sister. “I believe that is what you would call it in your world,” says Bertram, with a slight smile. “Your sister does not wish to marry me. She thinks--perhaps she is right--that I am not worthy of her.” “Oh, Mr. Bertram! I never----” “She is my dear little friend, Sam,” continues Bertram; “she will always be my friend; and if you presume to slight or worry her in any kind of way, you will have to deal with me. You know now how I treat affronts.” The youth is still stupid and ruefully rubbing his pate. “Lawk a mussy! If you would be spliced to her, she is a darned fool.” “She is a little sage and a little saint. See her safe home, and there are two sovereigns to buy a new whip.” “Oh, don’t take the money, Sam!” cries Annie. But Sam pockets the sovereigns. “Strikes me, mister, you owes me more than that,” he mutters. “’Tis assault and battery.” “I shall give you no more money,” says Bertram, very decidedly. “I will knock you down again if you like.” “Come away, Sam,” says Annie, pulling him towards the door. “Oh Sam, aren’t you ashamed?” “Naw, I ain’t,” says her brother. “Kate said, ‘Run and you’ll find ’em together.’ I run and I did find ye together. How was I to know?” “Oh, come away, Sam,” repeats his sister, in anguish. “Come away. You disgrace yourself and me. I’ll tell mother.” Sam is suddenly subdued and greatly alarmed. “Naw, don’t tell mother,” he mutters, and suffers himself to be led away. “Oh, I am so ashamed! so ashamed, Mr. Bertram!” says Annie. “Do pray forgive him. He is only a lad.” “I would forgive him much heavier offences. He is your brother.” “God bless you, sir,” she says, softly, looking back at him as she goes out of the door. “Dear little girl! Dear, honest little girl!” murmurs Bertram. “I will try and get her the kitchen, and the muffin, and the cat, which form her ideal, and some good fellow to sit with her by the hearth. Good Heavens! Can one ever be grateful enough for being saved from relationship to Sam? What an exciting and exhausting day! And I have been very Philistine!”