“Hold and be damned!—And Foxwell, you’ve deceived me, too. You said you’d persuade her to have me.” “So I have done,” asserted Foxwell, “and she has given her consent.” “Given her consent? Then _you_ was the relation—and _I’m_ the Dick Birch! What?—and this here stripling would ’a’ had me help to do myself out of a bride! Oh, you shall all pay for this among you!” “Softly, softly, Thornby,” said Foxwell. “She has promised to marry you. Have you not, miss?” After a brief hesitation, Georgiana uttered a reluctant “yes.” “Then you forced the promise from her,” said Thornby. “She gave it willingly,” returned Foxwell. “Did you not, miss?” “Yes—willingly,” said Georgiana, in the faintest of voices. “And yet you ran away with this here other man,” said Thornby. “I was—carried away,” she replied, in a tone as frail as before. “And you are still willing to marry Mr. Thornby?” said her uncle. “Y—yes.” Thornby’s brow cleared. “Then, ecod, not much harm’s done, after all. ’Tis all well that ends well.” Everell again put in, addressing Thornby: “She is willing to marry you, perhaps. But ask her if she will ever love you, man.” “Eh! Well, what about that? D’ye think you’ll ever love me, miss?” “No, I do not, sir,” cried Georgiana, suddenly emphatic of voice. “I shall always love this gentleman! For ever, and ever, and ever!” And she moved toward the man of her choice. Her manner of speech, her look of disdain, and Everell’s smile of triumph were too much for Thornby’s savage vanity. “Then don’t flatter yourself I’ll marry you,” he answered, with retaliatory scorn. “A white-faced vixen, when all’s said and done! Mistress of Thornby Hall, after this night’s business?—dod, I’m warned in time!” “Oh, say it again!” exclaimed Georgiana, rejoiced. “I do say it again! Ecod, I know my value!” “I am freed of my promise!” she cried. “Ay,” said Thornby, with a swelling wrath which had to be discharged upon somebody, “and your blundering uncle may go whistle.—You shall answer for this, Foxwell, d’ye hear? I’ll see to that. ’Tis all along o’ your mismanagement. But I’ll be quits wi’ ye. I’ll make use o’ that there letter!—rat me but I will!” “You are quite unreasonable, Thornby,” said Foxwell, patiently, and, turning to his attendant, “Joseph, wait without.” Joseph left the room, whereupon Thornby had the grace to order his own servant to be off; so that the four principals were left alone. Foxwell made sure that the door was closed against espial, and thrust into the keyhole a part of the handkerchief he had taken from Georgiana. He then returned to Thornby, who had meanwhile been fuming and pacing the floor. “You have cause for anger, I admit,” said Foxwell; “but you are bound to own I have done my part.” “Don’t talk to me, sir,” roared Thornby. “I’ll make you smart afore I’ve done! See if I don’t!”