"There are your companions," she says.
"Companions?" he returns, enquiringly. He looks round upon them with
surprise. "Who are those fellows you have got here?" he enquires,
angrily.
"You brought them to your own home; that home you might make happy-"
"Not a bit of it! They are some of your d-d disreputable relations."
"My relations never violate the conduct of gentlemen." "No; but they
sponge on me. These my companions!" looking at them inquisitively.
"Oh, no! Don't let us talk about such things; I'ze got fifteen
hundred dollars and costs to pay for that nigger gal you were fool
enough to get into a fit about when we were married. That's what
I'ze got for my good-heartedness." M'Carstrow permits his very
gentlemanly southern self to get into a rage. He springs to his feet
suddenly, crosses and recrosses the hall like one frenzied with
excitement. Franconia is frightened, runs up the stairs, and into
her chamber, where, secreting herself, she fastens the door. He
looks wistfully after her, stamping his foot, but he will not
follow. Too much of a polished gentleman, he will merely amuse
himself by running over the gamut of his strongest imprecations. The
noise creates general alarm among his companions, who, gaining their
uprights, commence remonstrating with him on his rude conduct, as if
they were much superior beings.
"Now, colonel, major,--or whatever they dubbed ye, in the way of a
title," says one, putting his hand to his hat with a swaggering bow;
"just stop that ar' sort a' nonsense, and pay over this 'ere little
affair afore we gets into polite etiquette and such things.
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