"Tu?" shrieked the matron, with a tone of ineffable scorn. And do yu call yourself a man?"
"Tu nobles! tu nobles!" shrieked he again, hopping about at oar's length.
"Tu? And would you sell your soul under ten?"
"Oh, if that is it," cried poor Campian, "give her ten, give her ten, brother Pars—Morgans, I mean; and take care of your shins, 'Offa Cerbero,' you know—Oh, virago! "Furens quid fœmina possit!' Certainly she is some Lamia, some Gorgon, some"
"Take that for your Lamys and Gorgons to an honest woman!" and in a moment poor Campian's thin legs were cut from under him, while the virago, "mounting on his trunk astride," like that more famous one on Hudibras, cried, "Ten nobles, or I'll kep ye here till morning!" And the ten nobles were paid into her hand.
And now the boat, its dragon guardian being pacified, was run down to the sea, and close past the nook where poor little Rose was squeezing herself into the farthest and darkest corner, among wet sea-weed and rough barnacles, holding her breath as they approached.
They passed her, and the boat's keel was already in the water; Lucy had followed them close, for reasons of her own, and perceiving close to the water's edge a dark cavern, cunningly surmised that it contained Rose, and planted her ample person right across its mouth, while she grumbled at her husband, the strangers, and above all at Mr. Leigh's groom, to whom she prophesied pretty plainly Launceston jail and the gallows; while the wretched serving-man, who would as soon have dared to leap off Welcombe Cliff, as to return railing for railing to the White Witch, in vain entreated her mercy, and tried, by all possible dodging, to keep one of the party between himself and her, lest her redoubted eye should "overlook" him once more to his ruin.
But the night's adventures were not ended yet; for just as the boat was launched, a faint halloo was heard upon the beach, and a minute after, a horseman plunged down the pebbles and along the sand, and pulling his horse up on its haunches close to the terrified group, dropped, rather than leaped, from the saddle.
The serving-man, though he dared not tackle a witch, knew well enough how to deal with a swordsman; and drawing, sprang upon the new-comer: and then recoiled—
"God forgive me, it's Mr. Eustace! Oh, dear sir, I took you for one of Sir Richard's men! Oh, sir, you're hurt!"
"A scratch! a scratch!" almost moaned Eustace. "Help me into the boat, Jack. Gentlemen, I must with you."
"Not with us, surely, my dear son, vagabonds upon the face of the earth?" said kind-hearted Campian.
"With you, for ever. All is over here. Whither God and the cause lead"—and he staggered toward the boat.
As he passed Rose, she saw his ghastly bleeding face, half bound up with a handkerchief, which could not conceal the convulsions of rage, shame, and despair, which twisted it from all its
