"Hoity-toity. Slave, eh? Slave! And for how long, think you, my pretty? Ships are due in the bay even now, and then I can pay off thy father and go home. Yet I know not that I will go home. I have conceived a fancy for Virginia and Virginian girls. Above all for thee, Joice. I love thy golden head and blue eyes and rosy lips--what said the actor fellow in the play of old Bess's day, of lips like roses filled with snow? He must have dreamt of such as thine!--I love them, I say. And, Joice, I do love thee." I was trembling with anger all the while he spoke, and now I said: "While my father lies sick I rule in this house, and to-morrow that rule shall see you punished. To-morrow you shall go amongst the convicts and the bond-servants, and do slaves' work. You tipsy dog, this house is no place for you!" He took no notice of my words beyond a drunken grin, and then, because he was a cowardly ruffian who thought he could safely assault a young girl who was alone and defenceless while her father lay ill upstairs, he sprang towards me and seized me in his arms exclaiming: "Roses filled with snow! And I will have a kiss from them. I will, I say, I will. Thy charms madden me, Joice." But now, while I struggled with him and beat his face with my clenched hands, I sent shriek upon shriek forth, and I screamed to my father and Mary to come and save me from the monster. "Ssh-ssh!" he said, while still he endeavoured to kiss me. "Hush, you pretty fool, hush! You will arouse the house, and kisses cost nothing--ha, the devil!" He broke off his speech and released me, for now he saw a sight that struck fear to his craven heart. Standing in the open doorway, his face as white as the long dressing robe he wore, was my father with his drawn hanger in his hand, and, behind him, Mary Mills and one or two negroes. "God!" he exclaimed, "my daughter assaulted by my own bought servant. You villain! your life alone can atone for this." Then, with one step, his strength returning to him for a moment, he came within distance of the ruffian, and, reaching his sword on high, struck full at his head. Fortunately for the other, but unfortunately for future events, his feebleness made that sword shake in his hand so that it missed the wretch's head--though only by a hair's breadth--and, descending, struck off one of his ears so that it fell upon the polished floor of the saloon, while the weapon cut into his shoulder as it continued its course. "This time I will make more sure," my father exclaimed, raising the sword again, but, ere he could renew the attack, with one bound accompanied by a hideous yell of pain, the villain Roderick St. Amande had leapt out on to the porch and fled down the steps--his track being marked by a line of blood. While my poor father, overcome by his exertions, and seeing that the wretch had escaped, fell back fainting into the arms of Mary Mills. CHAPTER XV A VISITOR FROM ENGLAND