One single moment of hesitation—I am ashamed to confess to it; but his voice and manner were so solemn—and my resolve returned, fixed and firm. "I have said that I will not, now or ever." He laid hold of me by the two arms as if he were going to shake me; his angry face, with its beautiful white teeth—he always showed them when in anger—close to mine. You see, the old fear I used to have of him as a child clung to me still, and I shrieked out loud twice in my terror. I had always been wanting in presence of mind. It all passed in a moment. _What_ I hardly knew. There was a crash as if the slender hedge gave way; and Mr. Chandos was holding me behind him, having flung Mr. Edwin Barley back against the opposite tree. CHAPTER XXIV. MRS. PENN'S REVELATION. Against the tree to which the powerful push had flung him, he stood quietly. There had been no blow. Mr. Chandos had but come between us, calmly put me behind him, laid his hand on Mr. Edwin Barley's chest, and pushed him backwards. These very slender, delicate-looking men sometimes possess unusual strength—as he did. Edwin Barley, in an encounter, would have been as a reed in his hand. Neither of them seemed in a passion: at least their manner did not betray it. Mr. Chandos's face was a little paler than common; it was stern, haughty, and its nostrils were working; but otherwise he looked cool and collected. And Mr. Edwin Barley stood gazing at him, a strange look of conscious power in his eye and lip. "How dare you presume to molest this young lady?" were the first words of Mr. Chandos. "What do you mean by it?" "As to 'molesting,' I do not understand the term, as applied to Miss Hereford," returned Mr. Edwin Barley, with cool equanimity. "I possess the right to talk to her, and touch her; you don't. Neither possess you the right to protect her: I do. What relative may she be of yours?" "None. But she is my mother's guest." "None; just so. She is my niece." Mr. Chandos, with a gesture of astonishment, looked in my face for confirmation or refutation. He got neither. I only clung to him for protection, the tears running down my cheeks. "She has no protecting relative save myself; she has no other relative, so far as I know, or she knows, in the world, save a lad younger than she is," pursued Mr. Edwin Barley, no anger in his tone, only the firmness of conscious power. "My niece, I tell you, sir." "Whatever she may be, she is residing under my mother's roof, and as such, is in my charge. If you ever dare to touch her against her will again, sir, I will horsewhip you." Mr. Chandos held his riding-whip in his hand as he spoke (he had brought it out by chance), and it trembled ominously. Mr. Edwin Barley drew back his lips: not in laughter, in all he did he was in earnest, and his teeth were momentarily seen. Few could boast a set so white and beautiful. "Harry Chandos, you know that you will one day have to pay for your incivility."