'But what is he--oh, Mr Pinch, what IS he--who, thinking he could
compass these designs the better if I were his wife, assails me with the
coward's argument that if I marry him, Martin, on whom I have brought so
much misfortune, shall be restored to something of his former hopes; and
if I do not, shall be plunged in deeper ruin? What is he who makes my
very constancy to one I love with all my heart a torture to myself and
wrong to him; who makes me, do what I will, the instrument to hurt a
head I would heap blessings on! What is he who, winding all these cruel
snares about me, explains their purpose to me, with a smooth tongue and
a smiling face, in the broad light of day; dragging me on, the while, in
his embrace, and holding to his lips a hand,' pursued the agitated girl,
extending it, 'which I would have struck off, if with it I could lose
the shame and degradation of his touch?'
'I say,' cried Tom, in great excitement, 'he is a scoundrel and a
villain! I don't care who he is, I say he is a double-dyed and most
intolerable villain!'
Covering her face with her hands again, as if the passion which had
sustained her through these disclosures lost itself in an overwhelming
sense of shame and grief, she abandoned herself to tears.
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