Page:The Partisan (revised).djvu/37

 {|align="center" style="font-size:90%;line-height:135%" "It is a written bondage&mdash;writ in stripes, And letter'd in our blood. Like beaten hounds, We crouch and cry, but clench not&mdash;lick the hand That strikes and scourges."
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turned furiously at the interruption; but the stranger, though entirely unarmed, stood his ground firmly, and looked on him with composure.

"That's a bright sword you wear," said he, "but it is scarcely a good stroke and anything but a gallant one, Master Sergeant, which you make with it. How now, is it the fashion with British soldiers to draw upon unarmed men?"

The person addressed turned upon the speaker with a scowl which seemed to promise that he would transfer some portion of his anger to the new comer. He had no time, however, to do more than look his wrath at the interruption; for among the many persons whom the noise had brought to the scene of action was the fair Bella Humphries herself. The maid of the inn&mdash;accustomed probably to quell such conflicts by her beauty and persuasions&mdash;waited not an instant to place herself between the parties, and, as if her own interest in the persons concerned gave her an especial right in the matter, she fearlessly passed under the raised weapon of Hastings, addressing him imploringly, and with an air of intimacy, which was, perhaps, the worst feature in the business. So, at least, the individual appeared to think to whose succour she had come. His brow blackened still more at her approach, and when she interfered to prevent strife, a muttered curse, half-audible, rose to his lips. Brandishing the club which he had wielded with no little readiness before, he seemed more than ever desirous of renewing the combat, though with all its disadvantages. But the parties around generally interfered to prevent the progress of the strife;