"Have you finished?" taking snuff from her jewelled box, nervously.
I bowed.
"Then may I ask what are these canaille to me? Why, old Steadman was not a cousin within the first degree of Colonel Shepler,—a carter, Sir,—a hodman! Colonel Shepler was a gentleman; there was ducal blood in his veins."
"All of which did not render Steadman's sons less the heirs-at-law of the Shepler properties," I replied, coolly.
"Which they will never inherit, Mr. Humphreys! I have seen them; I know what the physique of that race is worth; I will walk over their graves yet!"
And upon my soul, she looked diabolical enough to live forever, and walk over all of our graves. I began to speak, but she waved her hand imperiously.
"I have had enough of this. The old carter and his sons have prowled, jackal-like, at my gate for years, waiting to prey on my dead body. If they are needy, let them work. I thought better of your instincts than to suppose you would hear the country gossip, and, worse still, regale my ears with it."
"I spoke simply in the cause of humanity. If the country people judge your conduct as I do, Madam, they are more just than I hoped."
She was silent a moment; but I think in her secret soul she liked the coarse, rough blow.
"The matter is an old story to me," tapping her box impatiently. "I find it wearisome. For this ring to which you allude, have you remarked it? It is a Nubian antique,—rare, I fancy."