Then there was a touch of pathos:
"Fare thee well, love, and adieu!"
But that was immediately dismissed:
"Fiercer thoughts I have than you;
We will drive the dastard crew
Into slavery!"
And then he stretched forth his right arm, and declaimed in loud and portentous tones—
"See the bloody tented-field;
Look the foe—they yield!—they yield!
Hurrah! hurrah! our glory's sealed!
Three cheers for victory!"
Suddenly his face blanched. For at this moment the door opened: a tall woman appeared—with astonishment and indignation only too legible in her angular features.
"Hobson!" she exclaimed; and at this awful sound the bold warrior seemed to collapse into a limp rag. "I am surprised—I am indeed surprised! Really, sir, how can you encourage him in such impudence? Seated at your own table and drinking too, I declare," she went on, as she lifted up the deserted tumbler—for her bellicose husband had hastily picked up his MSS. and vanished from the room. "Really, sir, such familiarity!"
"In the republic of letters, my good Mrs. Hobson," said Mr. Bethune with a smile, "all men are equal. I have been much interested in some of your husband's writings."
"Oh, sir, don't put sich things in his 'ead!" she said, as she proceeded to lay the cloth for dinner. "He's a fool, and that's bad enough; but if so be as you put things in his 'ead, and he giving of hisself airs, it'll be hawful! What good he is to anybody, I don't know. He won't clean a winder or black a boot even."