CHAPTER II. "An ancient and irascible old man, Who would not feed his angry heart with love, "ZOUNDS!" Consider, reader, could the Commodore, under all those afflicting circumstances, have said less? But the intensity of his rage was far more terrible in his countenance, than in the unearthly roar of his voice. He seized the remaining crutch that his daughter had not appropriated for a whip, and, swinging it with his right hand over his head, was about to hurl it at the prostrate cage and the yelling parrot; but his spoilt daughter sprang forward like a beautiful Amazon, and, placing her face of flushed loveliness almost in contact, and in complete contrast, to the parental and infuriated ugliness, she firmly, with both her hands, held his muscular wrist. "You sha'n't, father, I say you sha'n't hurt a feather of my aunt's bird; you sha'n't, I say, you sha'n't—you shall not !"—and she stamped violently with her little vixen feet. For one instant the iron substitute for the old sailor's hand, with its terrible spike and hook, vibrated hideously over the beauteous and curl-adorned head of his daughter. But she looked him fully and unflinchingly in his face, and exclaimed, "Strike me! I dare you! What! would you kill me, as you did Augustus, you wicked old man, you? I tell you this to your frightful old face, that you had better make the first blow you give me my death-blow; for, if your hand ever falls upon me in anger, if I have strength enough left after it, I'll drag myself to the nearest pond, and drown myself: do you hear that?-drown, drown-drown! Then who, in this wide world, will you have to love you, you very passionate old man, when Augustus is drowned, and Rebecca is drowned too ?" "This is too dreadful," moaned the suffering father, as he sank, almost in a state of collapse, into his chair. "Go, Rebecca," said he, immediately after, in the mildest tone possible; "go to your aunt, for see, she has fainted." The spoilt and undutiful daughter seemed changed, as if by miracle, into the loving and obedient niece-her arms were immediately about Matilda's neck, and two warm and passionate kisses upon her brow; but, though Rebecca showed much love, she showed but little alarm-her aunt often fainted, and had a peculiar tact for timely revivals. She was soon so far recovered as to be able to replace the cage in its proper place, and to succeed in soothing the bird, all angry as he was in being so lately made to play the part, in spite of his beak (having no teeth,) of the charioteer. Un But while this was proceeding with the ladies, Sir Octavius had not been idle. The pangs of his outraged limb now grew doubly severe. He scowled around him for an object on which to vent his tortured feelings. fortunately for his character, that object was before him in the person of the mild and unoffending Mr. Underdown. Terrified by the voice of the Commodore, he hastily gathered up the papers over which he had been employed, contemplating a hasty retreat to the safety of his own room. He was on the point of passing the threshold, when the Commodore thundered forth, Stop, you less than a man!—at least you shall not despise me you shall not treat me like a wayward child-you shall not come and go into my presence as you list-you who eat of my bread What further he would have said it is im VOL. I. C possible to conjecture, for, again the tyrant of his house interposed, who, coming briskly forward, placed her hand upon his mouth, and though impudently yet energetically exclaimed-" For shame, father!-not another word against dear, good Mister Underdown. O father! you know that he has led you through the world like a wild lion in leadingstrings he has saved you from death three times-from dishonour he has saved you! my father!-you, you have told me this-he is a good man-do you understand that, a good, good man ?” "A poor, trembling, timorous, nervous," spluttered out the Commodore, as well as he could get the words through the fingers of his daughter that were still pressed over his lips. "Trembling!-timorous!" said the indignant girl: "who, very passionate father of mine, who, I ask you, was it, when our lodging-house in Bath was one mass of fire, rushed through the furnace when you were bed-ridden with |