venel, in a very portentous
growl. "Shaking your head at me? Do you intend to disobey me? You had
better take care!"

Leonard's front rose; he drew one arm round his mother, and thus he
spoke,

"Sir, you have been kind to me, and generous, and that thought alone
silenced my indignation when I heard you address such language to my
mother; for I felt that, if I spoke, I should say too much. Now I speak,
and it is to say, shortly, that--"

"Hush, boy," said poor Mrs. Fairfield, frightened; "don't mind me. I did
not come to make mischief, and ruin your prospex. I'll go!"

"Will you ask her pardon, Mr. Avenel?" said Leonard, firmly; and he
advanced towards his uncle.

Richard, naturally hot and intolerant of contradiction, was then
excited, not only by the angry emotions, which, it must be owned, a man
so mortified, and in the very flush of triumph, might well experience,
but by much more wine than he was in the habit of drinking; and when
Leonard approached him, he misinterpreted the movement into one of
menace and aggression. He lifted his arm: "Come a step nearer," said
he, between his teeth, "and I'll knock you down." Leonard advanced the
forbidden step; but as Richard caught his eye, there was something in
that eye--not defying, not threatening, but bold and dauntless--which
Richard recognized and respected, for that something spoke the Freeman.
The uncle's arm mechanically fell to his side. "You cannot strike me,
Mr. Avenel," said Leonard, "for you are aware that I could not strike
again my mother's brother. As her son, I once more say to you,--ask her
pardon."

"Ten thousand devils! Are you mad?--or do you want to drive me mad? You
insolent beggar, fed and clothed by my charity! Ask her pardon!--what
for? That she has made me the object of jeer and ridicule with that
d---d cotton gown and those double-d---d thick shoes--I vow and protest
they've got nails in them! Hark ye, sir, I've been insulted by her, but
I'm not to be bullied by you. Come with me instantly, or I discard
you; not a shilling of mine shall you have as long as I live. Take your
choice: be a peasant, a labourer, or--"

"A base renegade to natural affection, a degraded beggar indeed!" cried
Leonard, his breast heaving, and his cheeks in a glow. "Mother, Mother,
come away. Never fear,--I have strength and youth, and we will work
together as before."

But poor Mrs. Fairfield, overcome by her excitement, had sunk down into
Richard's own handsome