“It seems _you_ find reason to stare now,” said Foxwell to the Squire. “Egad, Thornby, had they bamboozled you?”
“Mr. Thornby, I hold you to your promise,” Everell put in; “a chaise, horses, and a man.”
“Chaise, horses, and damnation!” was the reply of Thornby, as he at last found a voice. “I never knew ’twas _she_ you was a-running away with. You said ’twas Sukey Marvell.”
“Pardon me, no; _you_ said ’twas Sukey Marvell. And I hold you to your promise.”
[Illustration: “HE SNATCHED THE HANDKERCHIEF FROM HER FACE.”]
“Hold and be damned!—And Foxwell, you’ve deceived me, too. You said you’d persuade her to have me.”
“So I have done,” asserted Foxwell, “and she has given her consent.”
“Given her consent? Then _you_ was the relation—and _I’m_ the Dick Birch! What?—and this here stripling would ’a’ had me help to do myself out of a bride! Oh, you shall all pay for this among you!”
“Softly, softly, Thornby,” said Foxwell. “She has promised to marry you. Have you not, miss?”
After a brief hesitation, Georgiana uttered a reluctant “yes.”
“Then you forced the promise from her,” said Thornby.
“She gave it willingly,” returned Foxwell. “Did you not, miss?”
“Yes—willingly,” said Georgiana, in the faintest of voices.
“And yet you ran away with this here other man,” said Thornby.
“I was—carried away,” she replied, in a tone as frail as before.
“And you are still willing to marry Mr. Thornby?” said her uncle.
Thornby’s brow cleared. “Then, ecod, not much harm’s done, after all. ’Tis all well that ends well.”
Everell again put in, addressing Thornby: “She is willing to marry you, perhaps. But ask her if she will ever love you, man.”
“Eh! Well, what about that? D’ye think you’ll ever love me, miss?”
“No, I do not, sir,” cried Georgiana, suddenly emphatic of voice. “I shall always love this gentleman! For ever, and ever, and ever!” And she moved toward the man of her choice.
Her manner of speech, her look of disdain, and Everell’s smile of triumph were too much for Thornby’s savage vanity. “Then don’t flatter yourself I’ll marry you,” he answered, with retaliatory scorn. “A white-faced vixen, when all’s said and done! Mistress of Thornby Hall, after this night’s business?—dod, I’m warned in time!”
“Oh, say it again!” exclaimed Georgiana, rejoiced.