'What are you crying for, Milicent ?--Tell me!' 'I'm not crying.' 'You are,' persisted he, rudely pulling her hands from her face.

'How dare you tell such a lie!' 'I'm not crying now,' pleaded she.
'But you have been, and just this minute too; and I will know what for.
Come, now, you shall tell me!' 'Do let me alone, Ralph! Remember, we are not at home.' 'No matter: you shall answer my question!' exclaimed her tormentor; and he attempted to extort the confession by shaking her, and remorselessly crushing her slight arms in the gripe of his powerful fingers.
'Don't let him treat your sister in that way,' said I to Mr.Hargrave.
'Come now, Hattersley, I can't allow that,' said that gentleman, stepping up to the ill-assorted couple.

'Let my sister alone, if you please.' And he made an effort to unclasp the ruffian's fingers from her arm, but was suddenly driven backward, and nearly laid upon the floor by a violent blow on the chest, accompanied with the admonition, 'Take that for your insolence! and learn to interfere between me and mine again.' 'If you were not drunk, I'd have satisfaction for that!' gasped Hargrave, white and breathless as much from passion as from the immediate effects of the blow.
'Go to the devil!' responded his brother-in-law.

'Now, Milicent, tell me what you were crying for.' 'I'll tell you some other time,' murmured she, 'when we are alone.' 'Tell me now!' said he, with another shake and a squeeze that made her draw in her breath and bite her lip to suppress a cry of pain.
'I'll tell you, Mr.Hattersley,' said I.

'She was crying from pure shame and humiliation for you; because she could not bear to see you conduct yourself so disgracefully.' 'Confound you, Madam!' muttered he, with a stare of stupid amazement at my 'impudence.' 'It was not that--was it, Milicent ?' She was silent.
'Come, speak up, child!' 'I can't tell now,' sobbed she.
'But you can say "yes" or "no" as well as "I can't tell."-- Come!' 'Yes,' she whispered, hanging her head, and blushing at the awful acknowledgment.
'Curse you for an impertinent hussy, then!' cried he, throwing her from him with such violence that she fell on her side; but she was up again before either I or her brother could come to her assistance, and made the best of her way out of the room, and, I suppose, up-stairs, without loss of time.
The next object of assault was Arthur, who sat opposite, and had, no doubt, richly enjoyed the whole scene.
'Now, Huntingdon,' exclaimed his irascible friend, 'I will not have you sitting there and laughing like an idiot!' 'Oh, Hattersley,' cried he, wiping his swimming eyes--'you'll be the death of me.' 'Yes, I will, but not as you suppose: I'll have the heart out of your body, man, if you irritate me with any more of that imbecile laughter!--What! are you at it yet ?--There! see if that'll settle you!' cried Hattersley, snatching up a footstool and hurting it at the head of his host; but he as well as missed his aim, and the latter still sat collapsed and quaking with feeble laughter, with tears running down his face: a deplorable spectacle indeed.
Hattersley tried cursing and swearing, but it would not do: he then took a number of books from the table beside him, and threw them, one by one, at the object of his wrath; but Arthur only laughed the more; and, finally, Hattersley rushed upon him in a frenzy and seizing him by the shoulders, gave him a violent shaking, under which he laughed and shrieked alarmingly.