ter in that way,' said I to Mr. Hargrave.

'Come now, Hattersley, I can't allow that,' said that gentleman, stepping
up to the ill-assorted couple. 'Let my sister alone, if you please.'

And he made an effort to unclasp the ruffian's fingers from her arm, but
was suddenly driven backward, and nearly laid upon the floor by a violent
blow on the chest, accompanied with the admonition, 'Take that for your
insolence! and learn to interfere between me and mine again.'

'If you were not drunk, I'd have satisfaction for that!' gasped Hargrave,
white and breathless as much from passion as from the immediate effects
of the blow.

'Go to the devil!' responded his brother-in-law. 'Now, Milicent, tell me
what you were crying for.'

'I'll tell you some other time,' murmured she, 'when we are alone.'

'Tell me now!' said he, with another shake and a squeeze that made her
draw in her breath and bite her lip to suppress a cry of pain.

'I'll tell you, Mr. Hattersley,' said I. 'She was crying from pure shame
and humiliation for you; because she could not bear to see you conduct
yourself so disgracefully.'

'Confound you, Madam!' muttered he, with a stare of stupid amazement at
my 'impudence.' 'It was not that--was it, Milicent?'

She was silent.

'Come, speak up, child!'

'I can't tell now,' sobbed she.

'But you can say "yes" or "no" as well as "I can't tell."--Come!'

'Yes,' she whispered, hanging her head, and blushing at the awful
acknowledgment.

'Curse you for an impertinent hussy, then!' cried he, throwing her from
him with such violence that she fell on her side; but she was up again
before either I or her brother could come to her assistance, and made the
best of her way out of the room, and, I suppose, up-stairs, without loss
of time.

The next object of assault was Arthur, who sat opposite, and had, no
doubt, richly enjoyed the whole scene.

'Now, Huntingdon,' exclaimed his irascible friend, 'I will not have you
sitting there and laughing like an idiot!'

'Oh, Hattersley,' cried he, wiping his swimming eyes--'you'll be the
death of me.'

'Yes, I will, but not as you suppose: I'll have the heart out of your
body, man, if you irritate me with any more of that imbecile
laughter!--What! are you at it yet?--There! see if that'll settle you!'
cried Hattersley, snatching up a footstool and hurting it at the head of
his host; but he as well as missed his aim, and the latter still sat
collapsed and quaking w