A grunt and a gesture with both hands was the answer.
“Falls, we'll station you in the kitchen; mind you behave yourself.
“I 'll just take a slight inventory of the principal things,—a mere matter of form, ma'am,—I know you 'll not remove one of them,” said Mr. Nickie, who, like most coarsely minded people, was never more offensive than when seeking to be complimentary. He did not notice, however, the indignant look with which his speech was received, but proceeded regularly in his office.
There is something insupportably offensive and revolting in the business-like way of those who execute the severities of the law. Like the undertaker, they can sharpen the pangs of misfortune by vulgarizing its sorrows. Lady Eleanor gazed, in but half-consciousness, at the scene; the self-satisfied assurance of the chief, the ruffian contented-ness of his followers, grating on every prejudice of her mind. Not so Helen; more quick to reason on impressions, she took in, at a glance, their sad condition, and saw that, in a few days at furthest, they should be houseless as well as friendless in the world,—no one near to counsel or to succor them! Such were her thoughts as almost mechanically her eyes followed the sheriff's officer through the chamber.
“Not that, sir,” cried she, hastily, as he stopped in front of a miniature of her father, and was noting it down in his list, among the objects of the apartment,—“not that, sir.”
“And why not, miss?” said Nickie, with a leer of impudent familiarity.
“It is a portrait of the Knight of Gwynne, sir, and our property.”
“Sorry for it, miss, but the law makes no distinction with regard to property on the premises. You can always recover by a replevin.”
“Come, Helen, let us leave this,” said Lady Eleanor, faintly; “come away, child.”
“You said, sir,” said Helen, turning hastily about,—“you said, sir, that these proceedings were taken at the suit of Dr. Hickman. Was it his desire that we should be treated thus?”