The moment the policeman, who entered the room first, made his appearance upon the threshold, a young female precipitated herself towards him, exclaiming, "For God's sake protect me—but do not, do not hurt my uncle!"
This girl was about sixteen years of age, and, though not beautiful, possessed a countenance whose plaintive expression was calculated to inspire deep interest in her behalf. She was tall, and of a graceful figure: her hair was light chesnut; her eyes dark blue, and with a deep melancholy characterising their bashful glances; her teeth were small, white, and even. Though clad in humble attire, there was something genteel in her appearance,—something superior to the place and society in which we now find her.
The man from whose cruel blows she implored protection, was of middle height, rather stoutly built, with a pale countenance, and an expression of stern hard-heartedness in his large grey eyes and compressed lips. He was dressed in a suit which evidently had never been made for him,—the blue frock coat being too long in the sleeves, the waistcoat too wide round the waist, and the trousers scarcely reaching below the knees.
"For God's sake protect me!" exclaimed the young girl, as above stated; "but do not—do not hurt my uncle," she added in a tone which proved the sincerity of the prayer.
"Come, come, Master Smithers," said the constable, "this won't do: you musn't alarm the neighbourhood in this manner."
"Why, then, does she interfere between me and Gibbet?" cried the man brutally, at the same time flourishing a thick leathern thong in his right hand.
"She does it out of good-nature, I suppose," observed the constable. "Every one knows how shameful you treat your son Gibbet; and this poor gal takes her cousin's part."
At these words the hump-back cast a timid but affectionate glance towards Katherine, who, on her part, threw a look of profound compassion upon the unfortunate lad.
"She does it out of good-nature, does she?" repeated the man: "then why won't he learn my business? He never can be fit for any other. But, no—the moment I leave him, he is off to the side of Miss there; and she makes him read in her outlandish books, so that he despises his father and the business that he must take to, sooner or later."
"But you ought not to beat Miss Katherine, Smithers," reiterated the policeman. "The next time I hear the cry of 'Murder' in your house I'll walk you off to the station—and that's all about it."