without
strength, and only fit to be cut up and cast into the fire. I am old,"
she replied, "but I shall live to see out the guilty race of you all."

"Go to the devil, you croaking old vagabond," exclaimed Phil, raising
his whip, and letting it fall upon her almost naked shoulders, with a
force as unmanly, as it was cruel, and impious, and shocking.

She uttered a scream of anguish, and writhed several times, until her
eyes became filled with tears. "My cup is not full yet," she exclaimed,
sobbing, "neither is yours, but it soon will be, you knew me well when
you gave that blow; but go now, and see how you'll prosper after it."

Sharpe, even Sharpe, felt shocked at the cowardly spirit which could
inflict such an outrage upon old age, under any circumstances; but much
less under those which even he understood so well.

"Captain," said he, "if it was only for the credit of the Castle Cumber
cavalry, I'm sorry that you gave that blow; those men on the other side
of the road there were looking at you, and you may take my word it will
spread."

"How dare you speak to me in that style?" asked Phil in a rage, and
availing himself of his authority over him, "what is it your business,
Sharpe? Sharpe, you're a scoundrel, for speaking to me in this
style--damn my honor and blood, but you are. What do you know about that
old vagabond?"

"Captain," said Sharpe, who was a sturdy fellow in his way, "I'm no
scoundrel; and I do know that you have just horsewhipped your notorious
ould grandmother."

"Fall back," said Phil, "and consider yourself arrested."

"Arrest and be hanged," replied Sharpe, "I don't care a fig about you--I
was in Deaker's corps this many a year, and if you attempt to come the
officer over me, let me tell you you're mistaken. We're not on duty now,
my buck, and you have no more authority over me than you have over the
devil--me a scoundrel! my good fellow, I know who is the scoundrel."

"My good fellow! Damn my honor and blood, do you apply that to me?"

"No, I don't," said Sharpe, "for you're a cursed bad fellow, and no
gentleman--didn't Harman pull your nose in Castle Cumber, and you
wanted the courage then that you had for your ould grandmother--me, a
scoundrel!"

"I'll tell you what, Sharpe; is this respect, sir, to your commanding
officer? Sharpe I'll mark you out for this."

"Don't you know," replied Sharpe, "that two of us c&n play at that game;
you had better keep yourself quiet, if you're wis