"I don't," he said; "I gulp it down and am off. Come, say your say and be quick about it. I have my affairs to attend to and can't sit here palavering with an old woman."
"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. De Witt, in rising wrath, "if I were young it would be different, if I were not a moral and religious character it would be different, if I were not a Rebow, but half gipsy, half boor, it would be different!"
"If you allude to Glory, with that sneer," said he, "I tell you, it would be different."
"I dare say!" exclaimed Mrs. De Witt tossing her head. "Blood and kinship are all forgot."
"You forgot them fast enough when you ran after Moses De Witt."
"I did demean myself, I admit," said she; "but I have repented it since in dabs and sprats, and I don't intend to do it again. Listen to me, Elijah. Once for all, I want to know what you mean by keeping this girl Glory here?"
"You do, do you?—So do I. I wonder; she defies and hates me, yet I keep her. I keep her here, I can do no other. I would to God I could shake free of her and forget her, forget that I had ever seen her, but I can't do it. She and I are ordained for one another."
"Parcel of stuff!" exclaimed his aunt. "You send her packing, her and her old fool of a mother, and I will come and keep house for you."
"Pack Glory off!" echoed Elijah.
"Yes, break this wretched, degrading tie."
"I couldn't do it!" he said. "I tell you again, I would if I could. I know as well as if it were written in flames on the sky that no good can come of her being here, but for better for worse, for well or for woe, here we two are, and here we remain."
"You love her?"
"I love her and I hate her. I love her with every fibre and vein, and bone and nerve, but I hate her too, with my soul, because she does not love me, but hates me. I could take her to my heart and keep her there," his breast heaved and his dark eyes flared, "and kiss her on her mouth and squeeze the breath out of her, and cast her dead at my feet. Then perhaps I might be
