There was a pause--a dreadful pause. The flash had left the cloud, but
the answering thunder had not burst upon the ear. Mr. Meeson gasped. Then
he took up the cheque which Augusta had thrown upon the table and slowly
crumpled it.

"What did you say, young man?" he said at last, in a cold, hard voice.

"I said that you ought to be ashamed of yourself," answered his nephew,
standing his ground bravely; "and, what is more, I meant it!"

"Oh! Now will you be so kind as to explain exactly why you said that, and
why you meant it?"

"I meant it," answered his nephew, speaking in a full, strong voice,
"because that girl was right when she said that you had cheated her, and
you know that she was right. I have seen the accounts of 'Jemima's
Vow'--I saw them this morning--and you have already made more than a
thousand pounds clear profit on the book. And then, when she comes to ask
you for something over the beggarly fifty pounds which you doled out to
her, you refuse, and offer her three pounds as her share of the
translation rights--three pounds as against your eleven!"

"Go on," interrupted his uncle; "pray go on."

"All right; I am going. That is not all: you actually avail yourself of a
disgraceful trick to entrap this unfortunate girl into an agreement,
whereby she becomes a literary bondslave for five years! As soon as you
see that she has genius, you tell her that the expense of bringing out