The cottager was seated at the foot of his bed muttering to himself, and with eyes fixed on the ground.
The girl stood before him, gazing on his face, and with her arms lightly crossed above her bosom.
“It must be worth twenty guineas,” said the host, abruptly to himself.
“What is it to you, father, what the gentleman’s watch is worth?”
The man started.
“You mean,” continued Alice, quietly, “you mean to do some injury to that young man; but you shall not.”
The cottager’s face grew black as night. “How,” he began in a loud voice, but suddenly dropped the tone into a deep growl—“how dare you talk to me so?—go to bed—go to bed.”
“No, father.”
“No?”
“I will not stir from this room until daybreak.”