"And what brings you down here?" she asked, with the same searching look. "You don't come down into this hole without some good reason. I did think at first that you might come down in order to see me, but you soon showed me that it wasn't that. There was a time when you was fond of me."
"So I am now, lass."
"Ay, very fond! Not a word nor a look from you last time you came. You must have some reason, though, that brings you here."
"There's nothing wonderful in a man coming to see his own father."
"Much you cared for him in London," she cried, with a shrill laugh. "If he was under the sod you would not be the sadder. It's my belief as you come down after that doll-faced missy upstairs."
"Dry up, now!" said Ezra roughly. "I've had enough of your confounded nonsense."
"You don't talk in that style to her," she said excitedly. "You scorn me, but I know this, that if I can't have your love no one else shall. I've got a dash of the gipsy in me, as you know. Rather than that girl should have you, I would knife her and you, too!" She shook her clenched right hand as she spoke, and her face was so full of vindictive passion that Ezra was astonished.
"I always knew that you were a spitfire," he said, "but you never came it quite so strong as this before."
The reaction had already come upon her, however, and tears were running down her cheeks. "You'll never leave me entirely?" she cried, clasping his arm. "I could bear to share your love with another, but I wouldn't have you turn altogether against me."
"You'll have my father out presently with your damned noise!" said Ezra. "Get away, and wash your face."