"What!" exclaimed my Lord. "That canting scoundrel Margaret's kinsman! I do not believe it! Speak up, Margaret, and deny it; or say, at the least, that you do not take the part of such an execrable villain. Say that he hath had his deserts, or at least some small part of them, and I shall be content. Speak out!" he cried, seeing that I hesitated, and smiting the table with his fist till the dishes rang. "Since I must needs speak, then, my Lord," said I, "Mr. Prynne is my kinsman, and hath often been at our house in my father's life-time; and then I am sure he was an honest gentleman, though somewhat sour and austere. What he has now done, I know not, save that he hath printed a book inveighing against stage plays, but sure it must have been a greater crime than that to merit so barbarous a sentence." "Barbarous! Do you say barbarous?" exclaimed my Lord, in tones that trembled with passion, while Lord Saville looked on with an expression of contemptuous amusement. "I did say so, my Lord," I answered, for my own spirit was up by this time. "Branding and cropping do seem to me barbarous punishments, and unworthy a Christian age: and I cannot understand how a Christian prelate could sit by when such sentence was given, and not protest against it." "He was so far from protesting that he was the very head and front of the matter," said Mr. Corbet. "And am I to hear this?" said my Lord, fairly glaring at me. "Elizabeth, do you hear this—this chit brave me at mine own board?" "Margaret said nothing till she was pressed," answered my Lady, more loftily than her wont. "And you dare to take the part of this fellow!" said my Lord to me. "How can you be surprised, brother?" asked Lady Jemima, scornfully. "'Birds of a feather flock together,' you know." "But you don't mean it, Margaret," said my Lord: "you do not mean to take the part of this crop-eared scoundrel and own him for your kinsman? You don't mean to say—" "I did not mean to say anything, my Lord, and should not, unless it had been forced upon me," said I, as he paused for breath, and seemed to expect some answer, "but what I have said, I cannot unsay. Mr. Prynne 'is' my kinsman, and he has been kind to my mother since my father's death. What ill he may have done I cannot say, but if it is no more than writing a book against plays and play-houses, I must say that the sentence seems to me a very severe and barbarous one, and most unworthy of a Christian prelate." I said this, I am conscious, with some emphasis and heat, for it seemed to me that I was being very unfairly treated both by my Lord and Lady Jemima, and it did not make me any cooler to see that Lord Saville was amusing himself with the whole affair. But here I received support, though I can hardly say assistance, from a very unexpected quarter.