'
All this time Sarah Matilda was perpetually breaking into talk, and with
difficulty silenced by my uncle.
'Well, 'appen she says I am--does she?' replied Dudley.
'Is she your wife, sir?'
'Mayhap she so considers it, after a fashion,' he replied, with an impudent
swagger, seating himself as he did so.
'What do _you_ think, sir?' persisted Uncle Silas.
'I don't think nout about it,' replied Dudley, surlily.
'Is that account true?' said my uncle, handing him the paper.
'They wishes us to believe so, at any rate.'
'Answer directly, sir. We have our thoughts upon it. If it be true, it is
capable of _every_ proof. For expedition's sake I ask you. There is no use
in prevaricating.'
'Who wants to deny it? It _is_ true--there!'
'_There!_ I knew he would,' screamed the young woman, hysterically, with a
laugh of strange joy.
'Shut up, will ye?' growled Dudley, savagely.
'Oh, Dudley, Dudley, darling! what have I done?'
'Bin and ruined me, jest--that's all.'
'Oh! no, no, no, Dudley. Ye know I wouldn't. I could not--_could_ not hurt
ye, Dudley. No, no, no!'
He grinned at her, and, with a sharp side-nod, said--
'Wait a bit.
Pages:
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602