"How dare I?" he cried, recovering himself. "An insult? No, no! you do not mean this. Glynne, for pity's sake, do not speak to me such words as these." "Mr Alleyne, I can but repeat them," she said excitedly, "it is an insult, or you must be mad." "I thank you," he said, changing his tone of voice, and speaking calmly, evidently by a tremendous effort over himself. "Yes, I must be mad--you here?" "Yes, I am here," cried Rolph fiercely, for he had come up behind them unobserved with Lucy, who had vainly tried to stop him, following, looking white, and trembling visibly. "What is the meaning of this? Glynne, why are you here? What has this man been saying?" There was no reply. Alleyne standing stern and frowning, and Glynne looking wildly from one to the other unable to speak. "I heard you say something about an insult," cried Rolph hotly; "has the blackguard dared--" "Take me back home, Robert," said Glynne, in a strangely altered voice. "Then tell me first," cried Rolph. "How dare he speak to you, what does he mean?" He took hold of Glynne's arm, and shook it impatiently as he spoke, but she made no reply, only looked wistfully from Rolph to Alleyne and back. "Take me home," she said again. "Yes, yes, I will; but if this scoundrel has--" "How dare you call my brother a scoundrel?" cried Lucy, firing up. "You of all persons in the world." Rolph turned to her sharply, and she pointed down the path, towards the gate. "Go!" she said; "go directly, or I shall be tempted to tell Glynne all that I could tell her. Leave our place at once." Rolph glared at her for a moment, but turned from her directly, as too insignificant for his notice, and once more he exclaimed,-- "I insist on knowing what this man has said to you, Glynne--" He did not finish his sentence, but, in the brutality of his health and strength, he looked with such lofty contempt upon the man whom he was calling in his heart "grub," "bookworm," that as Alleyne stood there bent and silent, gazing before him, straining every nerve to maintain his composure before Glynne, the struggle seemed too hard. How mean and contemptible he must look before her, he thought--how degraded; and as he stood there silent and determined not to resent Rolph's greatest indignity, his teeth were pressed firmly together, and his veins gathered and knotted themselves in his brow. There was something exceedingly animal in Rolph's aspect and manner at this time, so much that it was impossible to help comparing him to an angry combative dog. He snuffed and growled audibly; he showed his teeth; and his eyes literally glared as he appeared ready to dash at his enemy, and engage in a fierce struggle in defence of what he looked upon as his just rights.