is chiefly in the dark. It is my belief she knocks him about terribly in that chamber. I listen at the wall sometimes when I am in bed, and I think I hear her thumping him. You should see her fist: she could hold half a dozen hands like yours in her one palm. After all, notwithstanding the chops and jellies he gets, I would not be in his shoes. In fact, it is my private opinion that she eats most of what goes up on the tray to Mr. Moore. I wish she may not be starving him."
Profound silence and meditation on Caroline's part, and a sly watchfulness on Martin's.
"You never see him, I suppose, Martin?"
"I? No: I don't care to see him, for my own part."
Silence again.
"Did not you come to our house once with Mrs. Pryor, about five weeks since, to ask after him?" again inquired Martin.
"Yes."
"I dare say you wished to be shown up-stairs?"
"We did wish it: we entreated it; but your mother declined."
"Ay! she declined: I heard it all: she treated you as it is her pleasure to treat visitors now and then: she behaved to you rudely and harshly."
"She was not kind; for, you know Martin, we are relations, and it is natural we should take an interest in Mr. Moore. But here we must part: we are at your father's gate."
"Very well—what of that? I shall walk home with you."
