‘Joke!’ she retorted, her voice rising to shrillness. ‘What should it be a joke for, I’d like to know? Have I such comfort in my children that I shouldn’t be glad of the help of a godly man--oh, and he is a godly man--like that?’ ‘That’s a poor answer, mother,’ said Myles, who had thrust his hand into his breast, as if to repress some anger or emotion. ‘Your children have never done anything to cause you uneasiness.’ ‘Do go on blowing your own trumpet!’ Mrs. Heywood exhorted him. ‘Nay, I’ve no more to say about it. But I want a better answer than that your children’s conduct drove you to marry that great, idle, greasy, sanctimonious, all-praying, no-doing brute--he isn’t a man. I can understand him wanting to marry you, you’ve thirty pounds a year of your own: but that you should look at him!’ He made an expressive gesture of contempt. ‘So it’s my money he’s marrying me for,’ said Mrs. Heywood; and no girl of eighteen could have spoken with more anger at the suggestion. ‘That’s it, is it? Ay, ay! “Honour thy father and thy mother”--do!’ ‘Are you giving us an example of honouring our father?’ he inquired, growing quieter in tone as his anger and disgust grew more intense, and her determination (he saw) more fixed. ‘Or is your present plan likely to lead us to honour you? No, mother; I can’t see what a woman like you wants with marrying again; though if it had been a decent man, let him be never so rough, I’d have put up with him, but that--why, I saw him on Saturday night coming out of the lowest public-house in Thanshope--half-drunk--as plain as I see you. But here’s the long and short of it. That man certainly never enters this house again. I’ll let him know that. And if you do marry him, he’ll please to find a home for you; for neither he nor you will share ours. Mark my words--if you go to him you leave us for ever.’ ‘Mother, thou’ll ne’er be so wicked,’ said Mary, from her corner, in tears. ‘Hold thy tongue, thou hussy! calling thy mother wicked,’ said Mrs. Heywood, sharply. ‘I’ll not have Molly called by that name,’ said Myles, composedly. ‘Remember, it’s I that am master here, when all’s said and done. I’ll have no such nonsense carried on. So let us hear--do you intend to be a wise woman or a fool?’ The words were not at all rudely spoken, but they were unfortunately chosen. They incensed Mrs. Heywood, and she replied sharply, ‘I intend to marry James Hoyle.’ ‘Then,’ said he, slowly, as if giving her an opportunity to recant, ‘it’s settled that I intend to have no more to do with you.’ ‘Oh, Myles, don’t be so hard on her!’ implored Mary, coming forward and laying her hand upon his arm. ‘My good lass,’ said he, ‘dry thy eyes, and be glad thou’rt not called upon to be hard, as thou calls it.’ Mary did not expostulate. Under the gentleness of the words she read a decision which she did not attempt to combat. ‘Mary’s our good angel,’ remarked Edmund from the couch; and his eyes, too, fell upon her with affection.