; but--" here he swore a big oath, "mind what you're about.
There never was a man yet but repented when he set himself against me."

Clarence made no answer. Talking was not in his way. And Mr. Copperhead
showed his wondering apprehension of a power superior to his own, by
making a pause after he had said this, and not going away directly. He
stopped and tried once more to influence the rebel with that stare.
"Phoebe--Phoebe--for God's sake make him give in, and don't go against Mr.
Copperhead!" cried Tozer's tremulous voice, shaken with weakness and
anxiety. But Phoebe did not say anything. She felt in the hesitation, the
pause, the despairing last effort to conquer, that the time of her
triumph had nearly come. When he went away, they all stood still and
listened to his footsteps going along the passage and through the
garden. When he was outside he paused again, evidently with the idea of
returning, but changed his mind and went on. To be left like this, the
victors on a field of domestic conflict, is very often not at all a
triumphant feeling, and involves a sense of defeat about as bad as the
reality experienced by the vanquished. Phoebe, who was imaginative, and
had lively feeling, felt a cold shiver go over her as the steps went
away one by one, and began to cry softly, not knowing quite why it was;
but Clarence, who had no imagination, nor any feelings to speak of, was
at his ease and perfectly calm.

"What are you crying for?" he said, "the governor can do what he likes.
I'd marry you in spite of a hundred like him. He didn't know what he was
about, didn't the governor, when he tackled _me_."

"But, Clarence, you must not break with your father, you must not
quarrel on my account--"

"That's as it may be," he said, "never you mind. When it's cleverness
that's wanted, it's you that's wanted to back me up--but I can stick to
my own way without you; and my way is this," he said, suddenly lifting
her from the ground, holding her waist between his two big hands, and
giving her an emphatic kiss. Phoebe was silenced altogether when this had
happened. He was a blockhead, but he was a man, and could stand up for
his love, and for his own rights as a man, independent of the world. She
felt a genuine admiration for her lout at that moment; but this
admiration was accompanied by a very chill sense of all that might be
forfeited if Mr. Copperhead stood out. Clarence, poor and disowned by
his father, would be a very diffe