Instead of moving, therefore, as Mildred had both hoped and expected, he remained motionless in his seat.

Dutton's mind was too obtuse to comprehend his daughter's allusions, in the absence, of ocular evidence of a stranger's presence, and his wrath was too much excited to permit him to think much of any thing but his own causes of indignation.
"Stand more in front of me, Mildred," he answered, angrily.

"More before my face, as becomes one who don't know her duty to her parent, and needs be taught it." "Oh! Dutton," exclaimed the afflicted wife; "do not--do not--accuse Mildred of being undutiful! You know not what you say--know not her obliga--you cannot know her _heart_, or you would not use these cruel imputations!" "Silence, Mrs.Martha Dutton--my business is not with _you_, at present, but with this young lady, to whom, I hope, I may presume to speak a little plainly, as she is my own child.

Silence, then, Mrs.Martha Dutton.

If my memory is not treacherous, you once stood up before God's altar with me, and there vow'd to love, honour, and _obey_.