’I will not be preached to,’ he growled; then becoming lachrymose, he said, ’I come home after having been away, a wanderer, for many years. I come home from bloody wars, covered with wounds, and find all against me. This is a heartless world. I did expect to find love at home, and pity from my sister.’ ’I love and pity you,’ said Honor, ’but I can only respect him who is respectable.’ ’Let me pass! ’I will not, Charles.’ Then he laid hold of her, and tried to pull her off the steps; but she had a firm grip of the rail, and she was strong. The children in the lane, seeing the scuffle, drew near and watched with mischievous delight. Charles was not so tipsy that he did not know what he was about, not so far gone as to be easily shaken off. Honor was obliged to hold with both hands to the rail. He caught her round the waist, and slung her from side to side, whilst oaths poured from his lips. In the struggle her hair broke loose, and fell about her shoulders. She set her teeth and her eyes glittered. Fire flamed in her cheeks. She was resolved at all costs not to let him go by. She had threatened that she would fight him, and now, before she had expected it, the fight was forced upon her. Finding himself foiled, unable to dislodge her, and unable to pass her, Charles let go, went down the steps, and kicked and thrust at the support of the handrail, till he broke it down. Then, with a laugh of defiance, he sprang up the steps brandishing the post. But, when the rail gave way, Honor seized it, and ascending before him, facing him, stepping backward, she planted herself against the cottage door, with the rail athwart it, behind her, held with both hands, blocking the entrance. Charles was forced to stay himself with the broken post he held, as he ascended the steps. ’Honor!’ he shouted, ’get out of the way at once, I am dangerous when opposed.’ ’Not to me,’ she answered; ’I am not afraid of you, drunk or sober. You shall not cross this doorstep.’ He stood eyeing her, with the post half raised, threateningly. She met his unsteady gaze without flinching. Was there no one to see her there but the tipsy Charles and the frightened children? A pity if there was not. She was erect, dignified, with bosom expanded, as her bare arms were behind her. Her cheeks were brilliant with colour, her fallen hair, raining about her shoulders, blazed with the reel evening sun on it, her large hazel eyes were also full of fire. Her bosom heaved as she breathed fast and hard. She wore a pale, faded print dress, and a white apron. Below, her red ankles and feet were planted firm as iron on the sacred doorstep of Home, that she protected. As Charles stood irresolute, opposite her, the children in the lane, thinking he was about to strike her, began to scream.