Had it been otherwise
there would have been no mere thunder-cloud, but a tornado. "The post
has brought some ill news from Crompton," was what flashed across the
young man's brain; and the thought, though sufficiently uncomfortable,
was a relief compared with that he had first entertained, and which had
driven the color from his cheeks.
"I have no cause to be frightened, that I know of, either of you or any
other man, Mr. Trevethick," observed Richard, haughtily.
"I hear you say so," was the other's grim reply; "but I shall be better
pleased to hear you prove it."
"Prove what?"
"Two things--that you are not a bastard, nor a pauper."
Richard leaped down from the wall with a fierce oath; and for a moment
it really seemed that he would have flung himself against his gigantic
opponent, like a fretful wave against a rock of granite.
Trevethick uttered an exclamation of contempt. "Pick up your
sketch-book, young man, or one of those pretty pictures will be spoiled
by which you gain your bread. You've acted the fine gentleman at Gethin
very well, but the play is over now."
"I don't understand you, Mr. Trevethick. If you must needs be insolent,
at all events, be explicit. You have miscalled me by two names--Bastard
and Pauper. Who has put those lies into your mouth, the taste of which
you seem to relish so?"
Trevethick reached forth his huge hand, and seized the other's shoulder
with a gripe of steel.
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