“We will soon see that,” said the man, with an oath.
“Touch me, and I will alarm the gentleman, and tell him that—”
“What?”
The girl approached her father, placed her lips to his ear, and whispered, “That you intend to murder him.”
The cottager’s frame trembled from head to foot; he shut his eyes, and gasped painfully for breath. “Alice,” said he, gently, after a pause—“Alice, we are often nearly starving.”
“I am—you never!”
“Wretch, yes, if I do drink too much one day, I pinch for it the next. But go to bed, I say—I mean no harm to the young man. Think you I would twist myself a rope?—no, no; go along, go along.”
Alice’s face, which had before been earnest and almost intelligent, now relapsed into its wonted vacant stare.
“To be sure, father, they would hang you if you cut his throat. Don’t forget that;—good night;” and so saying, she walked to her own opposite chamber.
Left alone, the host pressed his hand tightly to his forehead, and remained motionless for nearly half an hour.