"Look here, Polly. I came to see Tom to-day to jump upon him, and call him a fool, and give him back what he's given me for not settling down and marrying and being respectable. I was going to laugh at him, and show him what his respectable married life was." "I--I don't understand you, Jock," she said, faintly. "It's a lie," he growled. "I was going to laugh at him, but, damn it, he's so good a chap I hadn't the heart to mak' him miserable any more than he is about that poor bairn he thinks was his, and I--" "How dare you!" cried Polly, flaming up, and trying to tear away her hand; but he held it fast, and, in spite of her indignation, she cowered before his fierce, almost savage looks. "How dare I?" he growled. "Didn't young Serrol run after you at the house when you were at Mallow's? Hasn't he been after you ever since? Isn't he every day nearly hanging about the river there fishing, so as to come and talk to thee? Curse you!" he growled. "This is a wife, is it? But, by God, it shan't go on, for I'll take him by the neck next time he's fishing yonder by the willow stumps, and I'll howd him underwater and drownd him as I would a pup." "Oh, Jock, Jock, Jock," she cried, sinking on her knees. "I will--I will, by God!" he cried, in a fierce growl; "and then you may go and say I did it, when they find his cursed carcase, and get me hung for drownding thy lover." "It's a lie!" cried Polly, springing up and speaking passionately. "Cyril Mallow is no lover of mine. I hate and detest him, but never dared tell poor Tom how he came and troubled me. But I'll tell him now; I'll confess all to him. I'd sooner he killed me than you should insult me with such lies." She made a rush for the door, and had reached it, but, with an activity not to be expected in his huge frame, Jock swept round one great arm, seized her, and drew her back, quivering with indignation. "Let me go," she cried, passionately. "Tom! Tom!" "Howd thy noise," he growled, and once more she shrunk cowering from his fierce eyes. "Now then, say that again. S'elp your God, Serrol Mallow is nothing to thee, and never has been." "I won't," she cried, passionately, and she flashed up once more and met his gaze. "How dare you ask me such a thing?" "Say it, lass--say it out honest, lass--is what I say true?" "No," she cried, gazing full in his eyes. "It's a cruel, cruel lie. Let me go. I'll tell Tom now--every word--everything that man has said, and--" Jock let his great hand sink from Polly's little arm to her wrist, and led her to a chair, she being helpless against his giant strength. "Nay," he said, "thou shan't tell him. It would half kill him first, and then he'd go and kill parson's boy." "Yes, yes; he would, he would," sobbed Polly. "I dared not tell him, and it's been breaking my heart. But I won't bear it. Go away from here. How dare you say such things to me?"