“Why, a man does not get blown up with gunpowder without some little disturbance of the system.”
“Blown up with gunpowder! What DO you mean?”
“What, have you not heard about it? Don't you read the newspapers?”
“No; never.”
“Merciful powers! But has he not told you?”
“No; he tells us nothing.”
“Then I'll tell you, it is of no use your making faces at me. There is no earthly reason why she should be kept in the dark. These Hillsborough trades want to drive this young man out of town: why—is too long and intricate for you to follow. He resists this tyranny, gently, but firmly.”
“I'd resist it furiously,” said Grace.
“The consequence is, they wrote him several threatening letters; and, at last, some caitiff put gunpowder into his forge; it exploded, and blew him out of a second-floor window.”
“Oh! oh!” screamed Grace Carden and Jael; and by one womanly impulse they both put their hands before their faces, as if to shut out the horrible picture.