shoulder, demanded:

"What do you mean, you ungrateful jade? What are you talking about?"

"About your contract in flesh and blood, Mr. Arthur. About your very
worthy scheme for putting money in your pockets by making me this
man's wife. If I am to be sold, sir, I will make my own bargain; be
very sure of that; and _this_ is not my bargain!"

"Don't talk to me of bargains, you little idiot! Do you think to defy
me? Do you dare to defy me?"

His rage passed all bounds. She put the width of the table between
them and surveyed him across it, mockingly.

"Listen, girl, I am your lawful guardian; you shall obey me!"

"Really, now, don't, step-papa; you are actually purple in the face!
You might die, you know; think of your heart, do, and take a glass of
water."

Old Adams collapsed in the remote corner whither he had fled. The
miser was not at home in a tempest, and this was already beyond his
depth. He gasped in speechless amaze and affright. Was this the girl
he had thought to mold as his wife, this fearless, defiant creature?
Already he began to congratulate himself upon his lucky escape. "She
would murder me some day," he thought, shuddering.

For the time being, John Arthur was a madman. Defied, mocked, by this
girl who had been a burden to his very life! He raged, he raved, he
cursed; and so raging and raving, he cursed her, and then in vile,
bitter words hurled his anathema at her dead mother's memory.

Then the mocking smile was gone, the taunting voice changed its tone;
and as it changed, old Amos, cowering in his corner, shuddered afresh.
Her whole face underwent a transformation. Her form dilated, she
sprang before her step-father and the ring of her voice checked the
imprecations on his lips.

"Stop," she cried; "don't add the last drop to your already overfull
measure! Don't double the force of the thunderbolt that will strike
you some day! Is it not enough that you have hated me all my life
through; that you have loaded down my childhood with unkind words,
curses, and wishes for my death? Not enough that you follow me with
your hatred because my mother's own will be mine at your death? Not
enough that you would barter my life--yes, my _life_--for gold, sell
my heart's blood for your own ease and comfort? And now must you
pollute the name of my mother, as you polluted her life? Never breathe
her name again; never _dare_ to name her! I, her daughter, tell you
that for her every tear, every heart pang,