"Wish you joy! Aw wish you an' your smooth tongue were i' hell fire an' me th' stoker. So that's what all this comin' an' goin', an' your sister hanging about Burnplatts, an' Miriam goin' about wi' a song on her lips an' a light in her e'en as if oo'd had a glimpse o' heaven--that's what it means, is it? An' do yo' think aw'm th' man to stand by an' see another steal his lass fro' him wi'out word said or blow struck? Miriam's mine, aw tell thee. Afore ever yo' clapt een on her, afore oo could toddle, when oo were a wee wench 'at aw hugged i' these arms across th' moor, Miriam were mine. She's none they meat, Abel Holmes; she's for a better man nor thee tho' tha art a parson's son, an' can talk her fine,'an' read out o' books to her an' turn her yead wi' po'try an' that mak' o' nonsense. She'll never stand afore th'parson wi' thee, Abe Holmes, nor wi' ony other man but me. Aw'll noan be robbed o' th' light o' my life by thee nor th' best man livin', choose who he is. But theer, aw said to missen I'd noan be rough wi thee. Tha did me a gooid turn i' that court do wi' th' Bradburys, an' afore that when tha fun me lame on th' moor, not so far fro' wheer we stan' to meet, yo' an' me alone on th' moor, wi' nowt to stan' atween us. I've noan forgotten. So aw'll noan be rough wi' thee; tha'st ha' thi' chance, for owd times' sake. Tha's got to give her up, Abe. See th' first streak o' grey's stealin' fro' th' east, tha can see me hand now. Put thine into mine, Abe, an' promise me, man to man, tha'll't gi' her up." "You know very well, Eph., I shall do no such thing. It's th' drink that's talking, not thee, Eph. Get yo' home to bed, and stand out o' my gait, for I'd fain be there mysen." "Yo'r bed 'll be a shroud o' snow, then. Off wi' yo'r coit, yo' white-livered cur, if yo'n a ounce o' blood i' yo'r body. Off wi' th' coit, an' stan' to me, man to man." And Ephraim in a mad frenzy tore off his coat and cast it to the ground, and stood before me, his blood-shot eyes glaring wildly, his mouth foaming, and his face convulsed with passion. I made no move to doff my coat, but as Ephraim came at me with a wild cry and big clenched fists that strove to reach my throat, I beat him off as best I could, tho' such was the frenzy that nerved his arm that I felt with a sick foreboding that I was at the mercy of my foe. I gave back from him, shielding my face as best I could, but he pressed me close, and his breath was hot and foul upon me and his left hand had closed upon my throat, when my eye caught the gleam as of a lanthorn and I heard from somewhere not far across the moor at the back of me, a loud, hoarse cry: "Hold theer Ephraim, hold, aw tell thee." "Hell and fury, it's Daft Billy--that'll be Miriam's doing. But aw'll finish my job, ony road, Billy or no Billy," cried Eph.