It fired him with resentment and hatred toward Charlton, whom he looked upon as a favored rival, and filled him with a dogged determination to win the girl by fair means or by foul; she should marry him—willingly, if she would; but her hand he would have, whether her heart went with it or not.
Having come to this determination, he forthwith set his wits to work to find means to accomplish his end.
“If I could get a hold upon the property,” he said to himself, “that would be the likeliest thing to bring her around. She’s attached to the place; still more to that crippled brother and the little ones, and would sooner sacrifice herself than see them come to want. Yes, that will be my very best chance. I wonder if they have the farm quite clear of incumbrance, and if the title is without a flaw? I must find out.”
It was one evening, while on his way home from a very unsatisfactory call at Lakeside, that Bangs held this conversation with himself. He had that day engaged a man to attend to his horse, and as he rode up to his stable the fellow stepped out and took the bridle.
Bangs alighted, and saying, “Rub her down well, O’Rourke, and give her a good feed of oats when she has cooled off,” he walked into the house.
The sound of repeated vigorous blows, mingled with sobs and cries of pain, fright and entreaty in a shrill female voice, “Oh, Aunt Dora, I will be good! I will be good!” met his ear as he entered.
“What’s all this about?” he growled, throwing open the door of the sitting-room, where a short, stout, broad-faced woman was belaboring with a rattan a thin, pale, under-grown girl of fourteen, who, held fast in the strong grasp of her tormentor, was vainly struggling to get free, and as vainly endeavoring to dodge the furious storm of blows rapidly descending upon her shoulders and arms.
“Oh, Uncle Avery, save me! she’s killing me!” shrieked the girl.
“No interference; she richly deserves all she’s getting!” exclaimed the operator between her set teeth, and turning on him a pair of light blue eyes, glittering with passion, as he strode across the room toward herself and the victim of her rage.
“What has she done now?” he demanded. “You wear yourself out in beating her, Dora; and I don’t see that she’s a whit the better for it. Come, come; whatever she’s done she’s had enough for this time, and I want to talk with you.”