'His family are puir—starving, in fact, sir.'
'What the deuce do I care? I'd as soon shoot a poacher as a weasel.'
'Let the poor fellow off for this time,' said Roland.
'Of course—do, please,' urged Maude; 'if you, Mr. Sharpe, were poor, hungry, and, more than all, had a hungry wife and children——'
'They are nothing to me.'
'But such pretty little children!' urged Maude.
'God bless your kind heart, miss!' exclaimed the old keeper.
'Let him go—this once—I say,' said Roland, still boiling at the tone and manner adopted by the steward.
'For my sake,' added Maude sweetly.
'For yours?' asked Mr. Sharpe, looking at her with a peculiar expression to which Roland had not yet the key, for he said firmly and emphatically: