se of the morning: under protest, of
course."

"Oh, of course," said Mr. Bendigo, bowing and quitting the room, and
leaving Mrs. Walker to the pleasure of a tete-a-tete with her husband.

And now being alone with the partner of his bosom, the worthy gentleman
began an address to her which cannot be put down on paper here; because
the world is exceedingly squeamish, and does not care to hear the whole
truth about rascals, and because the fact is that almost every other
word of the Captain's speech was a curse, such as would shock the
beloved reader were it put in print.

Fancy, then, in lieu of the conversation, a scoundrel, disappointed and
in a fury, wreaking his brutal revenge upon an amiable woman, who sits
trembling and pale, and wondering at this sudden exhibition of wrath.
Fancy how he clenches his fists and stands over her, and stamps and
screams out curses with a livid face, growing wilder and wilder in his
rage; wrenching her hand when she wants to turn away, and only stopping
at last when she has fallen off the chair in a fainting fit, with
a heart-breaking sob that made the Jew-boy who was listening at the
key-hole turn quite pale and walk away. Well, it is best, perhaps, that
such a conversation should not be told at length:--at the end of
it, when Mr. Walker had his wife lifeless on the floor, he seized a
water-jug and poured it over her; which operation pretty soon brought
her to herself, and shaking her black ringlets, she looked up once more
again timidly into his face, and took his hand, and began to cry.

He spoke now in a somewhat softer voice, and let her keep paddling on
with his hand as before; he COULDN'T speak very fiercely to the poor
girl in her attitude of defeat, and tenderness, and supplication.
"Morgiana," said he, "your extravagance and carelessness have brought me
to ruin, I'm afraid. If you had chosen to have gone to Baroski, a word
from you would have made him withdraw the writ, and my property wouldn't
have been sacrificed, as it has now been, for nothing. It mayn't be yet
too late, however, to retrieve ourselves. This bill of Eglantine's is
a regular conspiracy, I am sure, between Mossrose and Bendigo here: you
must go to Eglantine--he's an old--an old flame of yours, you know."

She dropped his hand: "I can't go to Eglantine after what has passed
between us," she said; but Walker's face instantly began to wear a
certain look, and she said with a shudder, "Well, well, dear, I WILL