In an instant she had unhooked the heavy chain, and sheltering the candle with her hand, admitted a large powerfully built man, who was scarcely within the hall when he said angrily, “Where the devil were you, that you could n't hear me?” “I was in the kitchen, Tom,” said she. “Don't call _me_ Tom, d----n you,” replied he, violently. “Don't keep dinning into me the infernal fool that I've made of myself, or it will be worse for you.” “Sure I never meant any harm by it; and it was your own self bid me do it,” said she, meekly, as she assisted him to remove his dripping great-coat. “And don't I rue it well?” rejoined he, through his half-closed teeth. “Isn't it this confounded folly that has shut me out of the best houses in the county? My bitter curse on the day and the hour I first saw you!” “Oh, don't say them words,--don't, or you'll break my poor heart,” cried she, clinging to him as he strode angrily into the parlor. “Be off with you,--be off to the kitchen, and leave me quiet,” said he, rudely. “There 's your slippers, sir,” said she, meekly, as, bending down, she untied his heavy shooting-shoes, and replaced them by a pair of list ones. “Is the dinner ready?” asked he, sternly. “It is, sir; but Massin'bred is n't come back.” “And who the devil is Massingbred? Don't you think he might be Mister Massingbred out of _your_ mouth?” “I ax your pardon, sir, and his, too; but I didn't mean--” “There, there,--away with you!” cried he, impatiently. “I 'm never in a bad humor that you don't make me worse.” And he leaned his face between his hands over the fire, while she slipped noiselessly from the room. “Maybe he thinks he's doing me honor by staying here,” burst he forth, suddenly, as he sprang to his legs and stared angrily around him. “Maybe he supposes that it's great condescension for him to put up with my humble house! Ay, and that it's _my_ bounden duty to wait for _him_ to any hour he pleases. If I thought he did,--if I was sure of it!” added he, with a deep guttural tone, while he struck his clenched fist violently against the chimney-piece. Then, seizing the large iron poker, he knocked loudly with it against the back of the fireplace,--a summons quickly answered by the appearance of the girl at the door. “Did he come in since morning?” asked he, abruptly. “No, sir, never,” replied she, with a half courtesy. “Nor say what time he 'd be back?” “Not a word, sir.” “Then, maybe, he's not coming back,--taken French leave, as they call it, eh, Joan?” The sound of her name, spoken, too, in an accent of more friendly meaning, lighted up her face at once, and her large eyes swam in tears of gratitude towards him as she stood there. “But he 'd scarcely dare to do that!” said he, sternly. “No, sir,” said she, echoing half unconsciously his opinion.