"No, Jonas, no. It was you who invited him."
"Ah! for me he would not come. Little he cared for my society. The picture-making was but an excuse, and you all have been in a league against me."
"Who—Jonas?"
"Who? Why, Sanna Verstage and all. Did not she ask to have you at the Ship, and say that the painting fellow was going or gone? And is he not there still? She said it to get you and him together there, away from me, out of the reach of Sarah's eyes."
"It is false, Jonas!" exclaimed Mehetabel with indignation, that for a while overcame her fear.
"False!" cried Bideabout. "Who is false but you? What is false but every word you speak? False in heart, false in word, and false in act." He had laid hold of the bit of ironstone, and he struck the anvil with it at every charge of falsehood.
"Jonas," said Mehetabel, recovering self-control under the resentment she felt at being misunderstood, and her action misinterpreted. "Jonas, I have done you no injury. I was weak. God in heaven knows my integrity. I have never wronged you; but I was weak, and in deadly fear."
"In fear of whom?"
"Of myself—my own weakness."
"You weak!" he sneered. "You—strong as any woman."