"What!" roared Black Milsom, in an infuriated tone. "What, Jenny Milsom, Honoria, Lady Eversleigh, or whatever you may please to call yourself, do you think I will stand that? Do you think I will hold my tongue unless you pay me handsomely to keep silence? You don't know the kind of man you have to deal with. To-morrow every one in the village shall know what a high-born lady lives up at the old castle—they shall know what a dutiful daughter the lady of Raynham is, and how she suffers her father to tramp barefoot in the mud, while she rides in her carriage!"
"You may tell them what you please."
"I'll tell them plenty, you may depend upon it."
"Will you tell them how Valentine Jernam came by his death?" asked
Honoria, in a strange tone.
The tramp started, and for a few moments seemed at a loss for words in which to reply. But he recovered himself very quickly, and exclaimed, savagely—
"I'm not going to tell them any of your senseless dreams and fancies; but I mean to tell them who you are. That will be quite enough for them; and before I do let them know so much, you'd better change your mind, and act generously towards me."
"Upon that subject I shall never change my mind," answered Honoria Eversleigh, with perfect self-possession. "You will accept the pension I offer you, or you will reject it, as you please—you will never receive more, directly or indirectly, from me," she continued, presently. "As for your threat of telling my miserable history to the people of this place, it is a threat which can have no influence over me. Tell these people what you choose. Happily, the opinion of the world is of small account to me."
"You will change your mind between this and to-morrow morning," cried
Black Milsom.
He was almost beside himself with rage and mortification. He felt as if he could have torn this woman to pieces—this proud and courageous creature, who dared to defy him.
"I shall not change my mind," answered Honoria. "You could not conquer me, even when I was a weak and helpless child; you must remember that."