"Oh, come, that'll do," cried the young man insolently. "Do you suppose you have a right to begin preaching at me every time you see me?" "Do you suppose, sir," cried the curate, still mastering his anger, "that you, because your father was the great land-holder here, have a right to persevere with what I have expressly forbidden?" "Confound your insolence, sir! Don't speak to me like that. What the deuce do you mean?" "What do I mean, sir? I mean this--and I beg that you will not adopt that bullying tone toward me." "Bullying tone! You shall find something else besides a bullying tone if you interfere with me;" and as the young man spoke he gave his hunting-whip a flourish. The curate's cheeks flushed, and his brow contracted with anger; but he maintained his calmness as he continued: "You asked me what I mean. I mean this: I, as their elder brother, and a clergyman of the Church of England, occupy the post of guardian to my two orphan sisters. They are happy in their life with me at the old Rectory, and I naturally look with serious eyes at the man who tries to tamper with that happiness. I should feel troubled if a gentleman came to the house in a straightforward, honourable way, and said to me, `Sir, I love one of your sisters; I ask your permission to visit at your house; give sanction to the engagement:' but when--" "Oh, if you are going to preach, I'm off. Finish it on Sunday." The curate's colour grew deeper as he stepped before the young man, and stopped his departure. "I am not going to preach, sir; but I am going to make you hear what I have to say." "Make?" "Yes, sir, make, in spite of your insults. You are the brother of the chief man in this village, and I am only the curate; but you are to a certain extent under me; and now you have driven me to it, I am, I repeat, going to make you hear what I have to say." "Oh, are you?" mockingly. "Yes. I say, when instead of approaching my sister in an honourable way, a man who is noted for his blackguardly conduct toward more than one poor girl in this village--" "Look here, parson, is this meant as an insult?" "--Comes to my house, and is requested to cease his visits, and then lays siege to the affections of one of my sisters in a cowardly, contemptible, clandestine fashion, I say, that man is unworthy of the treatment I should accord to a gentleman, and calls for that which I would give to some low-lived cad." "Here, I say," cried Tom Candlish fiercely; "do you mean to tell me I am not your sister's equal?" "I tell you, sir, that no one who makes himself the associate of betting men, racecourse touts, and low-lived jockeys is the equal of the lady you have named, while one who, in opposition to my wishes, insists upon writing to the weak, foolish girl, and persuades her to meet him as you have done, merits a sound castigation." "Once more, do you mean to tell me, I am not your sister's equal?"