"Oh, stay, stay!" she said. "Don't go, please don't!"
"Away!" he said. "Out of my way! He shall rue this deeply!" and he tried to shake her off, but in vain; she clung more firmly to him than before, beseeching him to stay.
"Don't, don't go," she continued, imploringly. "I must not let you go! Pray, pray, listen to me; you will be sorry if you don't. Oh! Mr. Linchmore, be advised. You cannot tell why he has taken her hand."
"Villain!" he muttered, between his clenched teeth. "Scoundrel!"
"No, no! you are mistaken," said Amy, hurriedly, "indeed you are. How can you guess at anything? He may be entreating her good will, may be telling her of his love for another. Oh! Mr. Linchmore, be yourself again; don't give way to this sudden anger until you are certain you are right, and you may be wrong. Believe me, you are wrong. Oh, don't harm him, pray don't!" and Amy's eyes filled with tears, as she felt she could urge nothing more; was powerless if he would go.
But as her voice grew hushed, and she relaxed her hold, he turned and said,
"Miss Neville, you love this man?"
"Oh, no, no, no!" replied Amy, now fairly sobbing.
"Then why this interest in him? Why seek to palliate his conduct, base as I believe it to be?"