"Maybe you lie too, to say it. You've held me in such contempt and scorn—you've treated me so vile—that it's good, even at a time like this, to make you bleed a bit. An' I'm going to now. You shall cringe yet, though I have got the gallows hanging over me; you shall grovel yet, though I do stand an outlawed, doomed woman for helping them at the Prison. I'll crack your heart first; then I'll ax you to save me from the soldiers. And yet I doubt if t'other ban't a more solid man to trust—Norcot I mean. Anyway, he's a wiser one, and can pay better, too."
"Do you dare to mean that you know where Grace Malherb is hidden?"
"Ah! that wakes you up—you that have done wi' cursing an' swearing—you that stole my grazing rights and called me 'hag' and 'miser'! I've got your fortune in my hand still, for all your bluster and great oaths. And I've got your daughter, too! Now you can listen—eh? Now I don't worrit you no more? Yes, I've got her hard an' fast, wi' cords biting at her wrists an' ankles like poisonous snakes—she said it felt so. I told you I'd wreck your stupid, brawling fool's life; an' I have. You owe every pang you suffer to yourself—then to me; every curse you utter hops back to roost on your own head—so grey it grows with their droppings! My work—all mine! Now howl an' roar—I want to hear you!"
The man preserved an astounding self-control before Lovey's confession.
"This is what her grandson tried to tell me yesterday, and I would not listen," he said aloud.
"Ah!—you was ever a poor listener. More poison for 'e! He was your nephew—Jack Lee—the son of your younger brother, an' so like him as peas in a pod! He knowed, but you wouldn't heed him. But you always heed me, Malherb—doan't 'e?"
Still he spoke no angry word, though his great chest rose and his face grew dark.
"If you tell me the truth—that my daughter is alive and in your keeping—that is well. Much has happened since she went away. If she knew, she would be glad to come back to me. I—I am not faultless—I have erred. My eyes are opened. Give me back my daughter, woman—I will reward you."
"'Give' her back! When was I ever knowed to give aught to anybody? That's your own fool's way—give—give—give. I might sell her; but you've not enough money to buy her. I'd rather kill her by inches under your nose an' see you wriggle an' rave till them black veins on your brow burst!"
His passion began to beat up strong and tempestuous under her lash. The spiritual dawn-light was still-born. Storm awoke in his soul before this infernal provocation and the sea of his mind fell into its accustomed waves before the wind of wrath. He forgot the danger of passion now; he did not appreciate the importance of self-control. His voice rose to the familiar roar and he clutched his riding-stock.