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"But if a' do, you'll only beat and throttle me to death, Sir Thomas."
"Whether I may or may not do so, go on, villain, and--go on, that
quickly, or by heavens I shall tear the venomous heart from your body,
and trample the black intelligence out of it. Proceed instantly."
With a face of such distress as our readers may well imagine, and a
voice whose quavers of terror wrere in admirable accordance with it,
the unfortunate Crackenfudge related the circumstance of Lucy's visit to
Dublin, as he considered it, and, in fact, so far as he was acquainted
with her motions, as it appeared to him a decided elopement, without the
possibility of entertaining either doubt or mistake about it.
In the meantime, how shall we describe the savage fury of the baronet,
as the trembling wretch proceeded? It is impossible. His rage, the
vehemence of his gestures, the spasms that seemed to sey;e sometimes
upon his features and sometimes upon his limbs, as well as upon
different parts of his body, transformed him into the appearance of
something that was unnatural and frightful.


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