Perhaps he was ashamed, and the more enraged on that account, for he growled another curse, and started afresh to reach her, whirling his stick in the air. Our voices, however, arrested him. 'My uncle shall hear of your brutality. The poor girl!' 'Strike him, Meg, if he does it again; and pitch his leg into the river to-night, when he's asleep.' 'I'd serve _you_ the same;' and out came an oath. 'You'd have her lick her fayther, would ye? Look out!' And he wagged his head with a scowl at Milly, and a flourish of his cudgel. 'Be quiet, Milly,' I whispered, for Milly was preparing for battle; and I again addressed him with the assurance that, on reaching home, I would tell my uncle how he had treated the poor girl. ''Tis you she may thank for't, a wheedling o' her to open that gate,' he snarled. 'That's a lie; we went round by the brook,' cried Milly. I did not think proper to discuss the matter with him; and looking very angry, and, I thought, a little put out, he jerked and swayed himself out of sight. I merely repeated my promise of informing my uncle as he went, to which, over his shoulder, he bawled-- 'Silas won't mind ye _that_;' snapping his horny finger and thumb. The girl remained where she had stood, wiping the blood off roughly with the palm of her hand, and looking at it before she rubbed it on her apron. 'My poor girl,' I said, 'you must not cry. I'll speak to my uncle about you.' But she was not crying. She raised her head, and looked at us a little askance, with a sullen contempt, I thought. 'And you must have these apples--won't you?' We had brought in our basket two or three of those splendid apples for which Bartram was famous. I hesitated to go near her, these Hawkeses, Beauty and Pegtop, were such savages. So I rolled the apples gently along the ground to her feet. She continued to look doggedly at us with the same expression, and kicked away the apples sullenly that approached her feet. Then, wiping her temple and forehead in her apron, without a word, she turned and walked slowly away. 'Poor thing! I'm afraid she leads a hard life. What strange, repulsive people they are!' When we reached home, at the head of the great staircase old L'Amour was awaiting me; and with a courtesy, and very respectfully, she informed me that the Master would be happy to see me. Could it be about my evidence as to the arrival of the mysterious chaise that he summoned me to this interview? Gentle as were his ways, there was something undefinable about Uncle Silas which inspired fear; and I should have liked few things less than meeting his gaze in the character of a culprit. There was an uncertainty, too, as to the state in which I might find him, and a positive horror of beholding him again in the condition in which I had last seen him.