Terror?” enquired Forester, in a solemn but almost ireful tone.
“That which it may please God:” rejoined Constantine. “Twenty fields of terror are of no importance to me in comparison with the safety of a single hair of my poor children’s heads. Take yourself away, or I shall give you that, you will long have cause to remember!”
“Gently!” cried the mountain-spirit, “gently! my friend. When any of my family condescend to assume a human form, they chuse one of rather stern materials. You might chance to get an under birth in this same fray, and in that case Heaven be merciful unto you!”
“That it has ever been,” said Constantine, “and has also given me a frame of no slender power. Away to your mountains, disgusting monster! I now warn you for the last time.”
Excited by this reproach to a pitch of violent fury, Forester sprang upon Constantine, and an obstinate fight ensued. They struggled about the yard for a considerable time, each using every means in his power to overthrow
