"Run away, George. Go home; you're all right."
The frightened child, who had been rather stunned at first, now understood him, and, turning, rushed for his home as swift as a hound let loose from his leash.
"You think you have got the better of me," said Ambert, white with rage. His anger raised his voice, and every sound went clearly to where Elfrida was standing. "But I'll be even with you yet. I'll have you up, sir, for trespass. What are you doing on my wood?"
"You seem to know a great deal," said Tom Blount, who was trying to control himself. "But there is one thing you don't know— and that is how to behave yourself as a gentleman."
"Do you think you are qualified to lecture on that subject?" said Ambert, whose rage was now at white heat. "Do you think I don't see through you, you beggar? Do you think I haven't noticed how you laid siege to Miss Robinson, with a view to making yourself comfortable on her fortune?"
"If I weren't a clergyman," said Blount, who was now as white as death, and whose nostrils were dilated, "I'd thrash you within an inch of your life for that speech."
Ambert laughed insultingly.
"It is easy to shield oneself behind one's cloth," said he. Now, this was a little rash of him, but, then, he didn't know it.
"And, of course, I can allow for a little chagrin on your part. Miss Robinson—-"
"Don't bring her into this," said Blount. He drew nearer, and if Ambert hadn't been a fool as well as a coward, he might have seen that the man was dangerous. "Look here—-" He struggled for words to express his rage, but they didn't come.