"I am not like to forget that," hissed Fox. "O, troth, no! Linked to thee--to thee, with thy ugly face and empty purse; thee, whom no one else would have, who has been hawked about and refused by all, and I am to be coupled to thee all my life. 'Fore heaven, I am not like to forget that." This, addressed to Bessie, whom every servant in the house loved, and every guest who knew her respected, passed all bounds of endurance. An angry roar rose from the men and maids who had crowded into the entrance-hall from the kitchen, from the courtyard, from the stables. The guests shouted out their indignation, and a blow was aimed at Fox from a groom behind, that knocked him over, and sent him down on his knees into the dining-room. He was not seriously hurt--not deprived of his senses--but other blows would have followed from the incensed servants had not Bessie thrown herself in the way to protect him. "Take him up--throw him into the horse-pond!" "Get a bramble, and thrash him with it till he is painted red." "Cast him in with the pigs." Such were the shouts of the servants, and, but for the interposition of Bessie, serious results would have followed. She gave Fox her hand, and, leaning on her shoulder, he was able to stagger to his feet. The blow he had received had driven the final remains of caution he had about him from his brain; he glared around in savage rage, with his teeth showing, and his short red hair standing up on his head like the comb of an angry cock. "Who touched me? Bring him forth, that I may strike him." He drew his hunting-knife, and turned from side to side. "Ah! let him come near, and I will score him as I did Anthony Cleverdon." Bessie uttered a cry and drew back. Fox looked at her, and, encouraged by her terror and pain, proceeded. "It is true, I did. We had a quarrel and drew swords, and I pinked him." "A lie!" shouted one present. "Thou wearest no sword." Fox turned sharply round, and snarled at the speaker. "I have not a bodkin--a skewer--but I have what is better--a carving-knife; and with that I struck him just above the heart. He fell, and ran, ran, ran"--his voice rose to a shriek--"he ran from me as a hare, full of fright, lest I should go after him and strike him again, between the shoulder-blades. Farmer Cleverdon! Gaffer Cleverdon! Thou hast a fool for a son--that all the world knows--and a knave as well, and add to that--a coward." He stopped to laugh. Then, pointing with his knife at his father-in-law, he said: "They say that he has gone to join the rebels. It is false. He is too great a coward to adventure himself there, and add to that I have cut too deep and let out too much white blood. He is skulking somewhere to be healed or to die." Bessie had staggered back against the wall. She held her hands before her mouth to arrest the cries of distress that could barely be controlled. The old man had become white and rigid as a corpse.