in astonishment; I dare say I looked as fierce and resolute as he. I moved to the bell and put my hand upon the cord. This tamed him still more. With a half-authoritative, half-deprecating wave of the hand, he sought to deter me from ringing.
"Stand off, then!" said I. He stepped back—"And listen to me.—I don't like you," I continued, as deliberately and emphatically as I could, to give the greater efficacy to my words; "and if I were divorced from my husband—or if he were dead, I would not marry you. There now! I hope you're satisfied."
His face grew blanched with anger.
"I am satisfied," he replied with bitter emphasis, "that you are the most cold-hearted, unnatural, ungrateful woman I ever yet beheld!"
"Ungrateful sir?"
"Ungrateful."
"No, Mr. Hargrave; I am not. For all the good you ever did me, or ever wished to
