“Susan is an obedient daughter. What I say she'll stand to; and I hope you know better than to tempt her to disobey me; you wouldn't succeed.” “Enough said,” answered George very sternly. “Enough said, old man; I've no need to tempt any girl.” “Good morning, George!” and away stumped Merton. “Good morning, uncle! (ungrateful old thief).” “William,” cried he, to his brother, who came the next minute to hear the news, “our mother took him out of the dirt.--I have heard her say as much--or he'd not have a ship-fold to brag of. Oh! my heart--oh! Will!--” “Well, will he lend the money?” “I never asked him.” “You never asked him!” cried William. “Bill, he began upon me in a moment,” said George, looking appealingly into his brother's face; “he sees we are going down hill, and he as good as bade me think no more of Susan.” “Well,” said the other, harshly, “it was your business to own the truth and ask him help us over the stile--he's our own blood.” “You want to let me down lower than I would let that Carlo dog of yours. You're no brother of mine,” retorted George fiercely and bitterly. “A bargain is a bargain,” replied the other sullenly: “I asked Meadows, and he said No. You fell talking with uncle about Susan, and never put the question to him at all. Who is the false one, eh?” “If you call me false, I'll knock your ugly head off, sulky Bill.” “You're false, and a fool into the bargain, bragging George!” “What, you will have it, then?” “If you can give it me.” “Well, if it is to be,” said George, “I'll give you something to put you on your mettle. The best man shall farm 'The Grove,' and the other shall be a servant on it, or go elsewhere, for I am sick of this.” “And so am I!” cried William, hastily; “and have been any time this two years.” They tucked up their sleeves a little, shook hands, and then retired each one step, and began to fight. And how came these two honest men to forget that the blood they proposed to shed was thicker than water? Was it the farm, money, agricultural dissension, temper? They would have told you it was, and perhaps thought it was. It was Susanna Merton! The secret subtle influence of jealousy had long been fermenting, and now it exploded in this way and under this disguise. Ah! William Fielding, and all of you, “Beware of jealousy”--cursed jealousy! it is the sultan of all the passions, and the Tartar chief of all the crimes. Other passions affect the character; this changes, and, if good, always reverses it! Mind that, reverses it! turns honest men to snakes, and doves to vultures. Horrible unnatural mixture of Love with Hate--you poison the whole mental constitution--you bandage the judgment--you crush the sense of right and wrong--you steel the bowels of compassion--you madden the brain--you corrupt the heart--you damn the soul. The Fieldings, then, shook hands mechanically, and receding each a step began to spar.