But, 'swounds, man," he cried, remarking the pallor, of his brother's face, "what ails thee ?" "I have news for you, Joseph," answered Gregory, in a voice that shook.
"It is not Cynthia ?" he inquired.

"Nay, for there she stands-and her pretty lover by her side.

'Slife, what a coxcomb the lad's grown." And with that he hastened forward to kiss his niece, and congratulate Kenneth upon being restored to her.
"I heard of it, lad, in London," quoth he, a leer upon his sallow face--"the story of how a fire-eater named Galliard befriended you, trussed a parson and a trooper, and dragged you out of jail a short hour before hanging-time." Kenneth flushed.

He felt the sneer in Joseph's, words like a stab.

The man's tone implied that another had done for him that which he would not have dared do for himself, and Kenneth felt that this was so said in Cynthia's presence with malicious, purpose.
He was right.