That he had shot the poor sledge-driver, an old and faithful domestic whom she had known from childhood, Aurelia never doubted; and that deed added to her unfathomable loathing and horror of him. She shivered in his presence, and shuddered whenever he drew near her. She glanced wildly at the room door, but escape was hopeless. He saw the glance and laughed aloud. Was she acting in a melo-drama with the ruffian, as the heavy villain of the piece? Was it all a dream? It almost seemed so, the whole situation with all its contingent horrors and future uncertainties, appeared so new, so unnatural and unreal! He seemed to read her thoughts, for he said,-- "Was it not to spite that tarnation Britisher, who used to come into the room with an opera hat under his arm, like a roasted fowl with its gizzard, I might give you a little time to think of marrying me." "Marry _you_!" exclaimed Aurelia in a peculiar tone, that filled him with rage and caused him to indulge in much language that was "more pagan than parliamentary" till he roused her scorn and anger. "Coarse fool, and worse than fool! how dare you use language that is unfit for me to hear?" "'Guess your Britisher will never see his wretched little island again--too many rifle bullets flying for that," said he irrelevantly, as he saw how every reference to Roland affected her. "You encouraged that 'ere Britisher," continued the Colonel, still airing his quid on his jack knife. "Encouraged--how dare you say so?" "Dare--there is no daring in it, my dear. Who commands here--you or I?" "Sir, you presume upon your relationship in some way with mamma, to talk to me thus, surely." "I presume only on my own love for you, and would keep you, a daughter of Canada, as I would a daughter of America, from the contamination of that 'tarnal red-coated British slave!" Still, as yet, save when dragging her to the house--her own father's house--he had not laid hands on her. With all his roughness and innate brutality, he felt that there was an undefinable something in the grand hauteur, the excessive delicacy, the tone of refinement, in the general aspect and bearing of Aurelia, that quelled, while it secretly "riled" him. He noticed the very expression of her nostrils, the quiver of her proud lip and the flash of her dark blue eye--the flash of scorn and loathing when she replied to him, and he quailed under it--he, the utter American rowdy! But this emotion began to die as he drained another bumper of stiff brandy and water, and he took to blustering and swearing again. "Do not use language such as this--and to me," said Aurelia, putting her trembling hands to her ears; "surely you do not know the nature of oaths."