Shirley

does not understand.«
    »It is my privilege, as a freeman, to gabble on whatever subject I like,« responded Martin.
    »You use it, or rather abuse it, to such an extent,« rejoined the elder brother, »that you prove you ought to have been a slave.«
    »A slave! a slave! That to a Yorke, and from a Yorke! This fellow,« he added, standing up at the table, and pointing across it to Matthew, – »this fellow forgets, what every cottier in Briarfield knows, that all born of our house have that arched instep under which water can flow – proof that there has not been a slave of the blood for three hundred years.«
    »Mountebank!« said Matthew.
    »Lads, be silent!« exclaimed Mr. Yorke. »Martin, you are a mischief-maker: there would have been no disturbance, but for you.«
    »Indeed! Is that correct? Did I begin, or did Matthew? Had I spoken to him when he accused me of gabbling like a fool?«
    »A presumptuous fool!« repeated Matthew.
    Here Mrs. Yorke commenced rocking herself – rather a portentous movement with her, as it was occasionally followed, especially when Matthew was worsted in a conflict, by a fit of hysterics.
    »I don't see why I should bear insolence from Matthew Yorke, or what right he has to use bad language to me,« observed Martin.
    »He has no right, my lad; but forgive your brother until seventy and seven times,« said Mr. Yorke soothingly.
    »Always alike, and theory and practice always adverse!« murmured Martin as he turned to leave the room.
    »Where art thou going, my son?« asked the father.
    »Somewhere where I shall be safe from insult: if in this house I can find any such place.«
    Matthew laughed very insolently: Martin threw a strange look at him, and trembled through all his slight lad's frame, but he restrained himself.
    »I suppose there is no objection to my withdrawing?« he inquired.
    »No; go, my lad: but remember not to bear malice.«
    Martin went, and Matthew sent another insolent laugh after him. Rose, lifting her fair head from Moore's shoulder, against which, for a moment, it had been resting, said, as she directed a steady gaze to Matthew – »Martin is grieved, and you are glad; but I would rather be Martin than you: I dislike your nature.«
    Here Mr. Moore, by way of averting, or at least escaping, a scene – which a sob from Mrs. Yorke warned him was likely to come on – rose, and putting Jessy off his knee, he kissed her and Rose; reminding them, at the same time, to be sure and come to the Hollow in good time to-morrow afternoon: then, having taken leave of his hostess, he said to Mr. Yorke – »May I speak a word with you?« and was followed by him from the room. Their brief conference took place in the hall.
    »Have you employment for a good workman?« asked Moore.
    »A nonsense question in these times, when you know that every master has many good workmen to whom he cannot give full employment.«
    »You must oblige me by taking on this man, if possible.«
    »My lad, I can take on no more hands to oblige all England.«
    »It does not signify; I must find him a place somewhere.«
    »Who is he?«
    »William Farren.«
    »I know William; a right-down honest man is William.«
    »He has been out of work three months; he has a large family: we are sure they cannot live without wages: he was one of a deputation of cloth-dressers who came to me this morning to complain and threaten. William did not threaten: he only asked me to give them rather more time, – to make my changes more slowly. You know I cannot do that: straitened on all sides as I am, I have nothing for it but to push on. I thought it would be idle to palaver long with them. I sent them away, after arresting a rascal amongst them, whom I hope to transport – a fellow who preaches at the chapel yonder sometimes.«
    »Not Moses Barraclough?«
    »Yes.«
    »Ah! you've arrested him? Good! Then out of a scoundrel you're going to make a martyr: you've done a wise thing.«
    »I've done a right thing. Well, the short and the long of it is, I'm determined to get Farren a place, and I reckon on you to give him one.«
    »This is cool, however!« exclaimed Mr. Yorke. »What right have you to reckon on me to provide for your dismissed workmen? What do I know about your Farrens and your Williams? I've heard he's an honest man; but am I to support all the honest men in Yorkshire? You may say that would be no great charge to undertake; but great or little, I'll none of it.«
    »Come, Mr. Yorke, what can you find for