"Ah! that I do, my lady."
"Why did you look so pale, and your eyes flash, and why did you incite
those poor men to--It might have led to bloodshed."
"It would; and that is what I wanted, my lady!"
"Oh, Mary!"
"What, don't you see?"
"No, no; I don't want to think so. It might have been an accident. The
poor dog meant no harm; it was his way of fawning, that was all."
"The beast meant no harm, but the man did. He is worse than any beast
that ever was born; he is a cruel, cunning, selfish devil; and if I had
been a man he should never have got off alive."
"But are you sure?"
"Quite. I was upstairs, and saw it all."
This was not true; she had seen nothing till her mistress screamed.
"Then--anything is fair against such a villain."
"Of course it is."
"Let me think."
She leaned her head upon her hand, and that intelligent face of hers
quite shone with hard thought.
At last, after long and intense thinking, she spoke.
"I'll teach you to be inhuman, Mr. Richard Bassett," said she, slowly,
and with a strange depth of resolution.
Then Mary Wells and she put their heads together in close discussion;
but now Lady Bassett took the lead, and revealed to her astonished
adviser extraordinary and astounding qualities.
They had driven her to bay, and that is a perilous game to play with
such a woman.
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