"Don't tempt me too far with your confounded impertinence," exclaimed the man, "or there is no telling what may happen. I want to know where that child is; you know I do. I mean to reclaim my rights so far as she is concerned. If she had been a ward in Chancery, a man might have submitted. But I am a reformed individual--my life is of the most exemplary description--no court in Christendom would keep her from my custody now. I want the girl for her own good--she shall marry brilliantly, which she never could do with you. I know she's grown up as lovely as I expected----" "How do you know?" interrupted Mrs. Hilyard, with a certain hoarseness in her voice. "Ah! I have touched you at last. Remembering what her mother was," he went on, in a mocking tone, "though I am grieved to see how much you have gone off in late years--and having a humble consciousness of her father's personal advantages, and, in short, of her relatives in general, I know she's a little beauty--and, by Jove, she shall be a duchess yet." There was a pause--something like a hard sob thrilled in the air, rather a vibration than a sound; and Vincent, making a desperate gesture of rage towards the school-room, from which a burst of applause at that moment sounded, approached closer to the window. Then the woman's voice burst forth passionate, but subdued. "You have seen her! you!--you that blasted her life before she was born, and confused her sweet mind for ever--how did you dare to look at my child? And I," cried the passionate voice, forgetting even caution--"_I_, that would give my life drop by drop to restore what never can be restored to that victim of your sin and my weakness--I do not see her. I refuse myself that comfort. I leave it to others to do all that love and pity can do for my baby. You speak of murder--man! if I had a knife, I could find it in my heart to put an end to your horrid career; and, look you, I will--Coward! I will! I will kill you before you shall lay your vile hands on my child." "She-wolf!" cried the man, grinding his teeth, "do you know how much it would be to my advantage if you never left this lonely spot you have brought me to? By Jove, I have the greatest mind----" Another momentary silence. Vincent, wound up to a high state of excitement, sprang noiselessly to his feet, and was rushing to the window to proclaim his presence, when Mrs. Hilyard's voice, perfectly calm, and in its usual tone, brought him back to himself. "Second thoughts are best. It would compromise you horribly, and put a stop to many pleasures--not to speak of those dreadful dirty fingers arranging that rough rope round your neck, which, pardon me, I can't help thinking of when you associate your own name with such a vulgar suggestion as murder. _I_ should not mind these little details, but _you_! However, I excited myself unreasonably, you have not seen her. That skilful inference of yours was only a lie. She was not at Lonsdale, you know."