attempt to extinguish the light, which Maria seizes in her hand, and
summoning her courage, stands before them in a defiant attitude, an
expression of hate and scorn on her countenance. "Ah, fiend! you
take this liberty-you seek to destroy me because I am poor-because
you think me humble-an easy object to prey upon. I am neither a
stranger to the world nor your cowardly designs; and so long as I
have life you shall not gloat over the destruction of my virtue.
Approach me at your peril-knaves! You have compromised my father;
you have got him in your grasp, that you may the more easily destroy
me. But you will be disappointed, your perfidy will recoil on
yourselves: though stripped of all else, I will die protecting that
virtue you would not dare to offend but for my poverty." This
unexpected display of resolution has the effect of making the
position of the intruders somewhat uncomfortable. Mr. Keepum, whose
designs Snivel would put in execution, sinks, cowardly, upon the
sofa, while his compatriot (both are celebrated for their chivalry)
stands off apace endeavoring to palliate the insult with facetious
remarks. (This chivalry of ours is a mockery, a convenient word in
the foul mouths of fouler ruffians.) Mr. Snivel makes a second
attempt to overcome the unprotected girl. With every expression of
hate and scorn rising to her face, she bids him defiance. Seeing
himself thus firmly repulsed, he begs to assure her, on the word of
a gentleman-a commodity always on hand, and exceedingly cheap with
us-he was far from intending an insult. He meant it for a bit of a
good turn-nothing more. "Always fractious at first-these sort of
people are," pursues Keepum, relighting his cigar as he sits on the
sofa, squinting his right eye. "Take bravely to gentlemen after a
little display of modesty-always! Try her again, Squire." Mr. Snivel
dashes the candle from her hand, and in the darkness grasps her
wrists. The enraged girl shrieks, and calls aloud for assistance.