I have been trying, John, for several months, how little I can live upon, and you would laugh if you heard how low I have brought the account." "There is a difference, Clara, between fanciful experiments and real poverty--the one is a masquerade, which we can end when we please, the other is wretchedness for life." "Methinks, brother," replied Miss Mowbray, "it would be better for you to set me an example how to carry my good resolutions into effect, than to ridicule them." "Why, what would you have me do ?" said he, fiercely--"turn postilion, or rough-rider, or whipper-in ?--I don't know any thing else that my education, as I have used it, has fitted me for--and then some of my old acquaintances would, I dare say, give me a crown to drink now and then for old acquaintance' sake." "This is not the way, John, that men of sense think or speak of serious misfortunes," answered his sister; "and I do not believe that this is so serious as it is your pleasure to make it." "Believe the very worst you can think," replied he, "and you will not believe bad enough!--You have neither a guinea, nor a house, nor a friend;--pass but a day, and it is a chance that you will not have a brother." "My dear John, you have drunk hard--rode hard." "Yes--such tidings deserved to be carried express, especially to a young lady who receives them so well," answered Mowbray, bitterly.

"I suppose, now, it will make no impression, if I were to tell you that you have it in your power to stop all this ruin ?" "By consummating my own, I suppose ?--Brother, I said you could not make me tremble, but you have found a way to do it." "What, you expect I am again to urge you with Lord Etherington's courtship ?--That _might_ have saved all, indeed--But that day of grace is over." "I am glad of it, with all my spirit," said Clara; "may it take with it all that we can quarrel about!--But till this instant I thought it was for this very point that this long voyage was bound, and that you were endeavouring to persuade me of the reality of the danger of the storm, in order to reconcile me to the harbour." "You are mad, I think, in earnest," said Mowbray; "can you really be so absurd as to rejoice that you have no way left to relieve yourself and me from ruin, want, and shame ?" "From shame, brother ?" said Clara.

"No shame in honest poverty, I hope." "That is according as folks have used their prosperity, Clara .-- I must speak to the point .-- There are strange reports going below--By Heaven! they are enough to disturb the ashes of the dead! Were I to mention them, I should expect our poor mother to enter the room--Clara Mowbray, can you guess what I mean ?" It was with the utmost exertion, yet in a faltering voice, that she was able, after an ineffectual effort, to utter the monosyllable, "_No!_" "By Heaven! I am ashamed--I am even _afraid_ to express my own meaning!--Clara, what is there which makes you so obstinately reject every proposal of marriage ?--Is it that you feel yourself unworthy to be the wife of an honest man ?--Speak out!--Evil Fame has been busy with your reputation--speak out!--Give me the right to cram their lies down the throats of the inventors, and when I go among them to-morrow, I shall know how to treat those who cast reflections on you! The fortunes of our house are ruined, but no tongue shall slander its honour .-- Speak--speak, wretched girl! why are you silent ?" "Stay at home, brother!" said Clara; "stay at home, if you regard our house's honour--murder cannot mend misery--Stay at home, and let them talk of me as they will,--they can scarcely say worse of me than I deserve!"[II-F] The passions of Mowbray, at all times ungovernably strong, were at present inflamed by wine, by his rapid journey, and the previously disturbed state of his mind.

He set his teeth, clenched his hands, looked on the ground, as one that forms some horrid resolution, and muttered almost unintelligibly, "It were charity to kill her!" "Oh! no--no--no!" exclaimed the terrified girl, throwing herself at his feet; "Do not kill me, brother! I have wished for death--thought of death--prayed for death--but, oh! it is frightful to think that he is near--Oh! not a bloody death, brother, nor by your hand!" She held him close by the knees as she spoke, and expressed, in her looks and accents, the utmost terror.

It was not, indeed, without reason; for the extreme solitude of the place, the violent and inflamed passions of her brother, and the desperate circumstances to which he had reduced himself, seemed all to concur to render some horrid act of violence not an improbable termination of this strange interview.
Mowbray folded his arms, without unclenching his hands, or raising his head, while his sister continued on the floor, clasping him round the knees with all her strength, and begging piteously for her life and for mercy.
"Fool!" he said, at last, "let me go!--Who cares for thy worthless life ?--who cares if thou live or die?
Live, if thou canst--and be the hate and scorn of every one else, as much as thou art mine!" He grasped her by the shoulder, with one hand pushed her from him, and, as she arose from the floor, and again pressed to throw her arms around his neck, he repulsed her with his arm and hand, with a push--or blow--it might be termed either one or the other,--violent enough, in her weak state, to have again extended her on the ground, had not a chair received her as she fell.