had been roused by the manner of his reception at the Glaze, when he went there to inquire after Judith.
Whilst engaged on his birds, his hand shook, so that he could not shape them aright. When he smoked his pipe, he pulled it from between his lips every moment to growl out some remark. When he sipped his grog, he could not enjoy it. He had a tender heart, and he had become warmly attached to Judith. He firmly believed in identification of the ruffian with whom Oliver had fought on the deck, and it was horrible to think that the poor child was at his mercy; and that she had no one to counsel and to help her.
At length he could endure the suspense no longer. One evening, after he had drank a good many glasses of rum and water, he jumped up, put on his hat, and went off to Pentyre, determined to insist on seeing Judith.
As he approached the house he saw that the hall windows were lighted up. He knew which was Judith's room, from what she had told him of its position. There was a light in that window also. Uncle Zachie, flushed with anger against Coppinger, and with the spirits he had drank, anxious about Judith, and resenting the way in which he had been treated, went boldly up to the front door and knocked. A maid answered his knock, and he asked to see Mrs. Coppinger. The woman hesitated, and bade him be seated in the porch. She would go and see.
Presently Miss Trevisa came, and shut the door behind her, as she emerged into the porch.
"I should like to see Mrs. Coppinger," said the old man.
"I am sorry—you cannot," answered Miss Trevisa.
"But why not?"
"This is not a fit hour at which to call."
"May I see her if I come at any other hour?"
"I cannot say."
"Why may I not see her?"
"She is unwell."
"If she is unwell, then I am very certain she would be glad to see Uncle Zachie."
"Of that I am no judge, but you cannot be admitted now."
"Name the day, the hour, when I may."
"That I am not at liberty to do."
"What ails her? Where is Jamie."
