Foxwell’s own temper gave way. He had been put to much exercise of self-command this evening, and had scarce yet regained his bodily composure after his ride. Of a sudden, now, his face darkened. “Then by heaven I’ll not smart alone! You shall suffer, miss,—and your lover, too! Let all come out. You say you know little of this young gentleman, Thornby. Would you know more?—who he is, _what_ he is?” “Uncle, you will not!” entreated Georgiana. “With my promise I bought your silence—remember that!—and I have not broken my promise. ’Tis Mr. Thornby has released me.” “Very well. Let us stick to promises, by all means! But I have your Romeo upon other grounds.—Before you as a justice of the peace, Mr. Thornby, I charge this gentleman with the abduction of my niece.—That, too, is a hanging matter, miss.” “Not so, Mr. Thornby,” cried Georgiana; “for, now that I am free, I go with this gentleman of my own consent. ’Tis not abduction, ’tis on my part a voluntary flight.” “You forget you are not yet your own mistress,” said Foxwell. “Besides, the abduction has been committed. Moreover, Thornby, the gentleman has appropriated to himself a horse of mine. I demand of you to act upon these charges.” Thornby underwent a sudden accession of magisterial dignity. “I know my office, Mr. Foxwell. Nobody has ever accused me of failing there. Sir,”—this to Everell,—“when the case is put to me in that form, I must do as my commission requires. I must needs hold you for a hearing.—I’ll send for my clerk, Foxwell; I left him at the table, but I dare say he’s still sober enough for what’s to be done.” Relapsing then into his more usual puerility, he added, “Dod, such impudent young strangers sha’n’t carry off our ladies with impunity, neither!” Georgiana had hastened to Everell’s side. “Oh, save yourself _now_,” she besought him in a whisper. “Not without you, sweet.—Gentlemen,” he cried, in time to stop Thornby’s movement toward the door, “one word. I am in a desperate position. Abduction, horse-stealing, the other business,—any one of them is the price of a halter. With but one life to lose, then, what is a crime or two more? ’Tis but getting the more value for my neck.” He took up the pistols left on the table by Thornby, who had lost all thought of them on being convinced of Everell’s honesty. Dexterously cocking them as he spoke, the young man went on: “If I must die, be sure that one or both of you shall go before me—’tis fair precedence, _cedant arma togæ_! But first I will have one more venture for my life—and for my love.” By this time, he had each of the gentlemen in line with a different pistol. “Mr. Thornby, move or call out, at your peril. Mr. Foxwell, the same to you; and this also: I think I can persuade you to withdraw your charges, and, furthermore, to lend me the horses that brought you and your man to this place.”