human
Don't distress yourself, my Agnes, said he, tenderly, placing her beside him, with his arm round her--
gpt
Oh, I've no patience, Charles!--it's the letter of a vulgar, hard-hearted fellow,
human
Yes--they are wretches!--cruel harpies! quoth Kate, passionately--
gpt
I must write and tell them, said Aubrey, calmly but with a countenance laden with gloom--
human
Oh, they'll put you in prison, Charles, directly --said Kate, almost frantically; and rising, she threw herself into his arms, and kissed him with a sort of frenzied energy.
gpt
We're _very_ miserable, Charles--are we not? It's hard to bear indeed,
human
Are you giving way, my brave Kate, beneath this sudden and momentary gust on the midnight sea of our trouble?
gpt
Human nature, Charles, must not be tried too far--look at Agnes, and the darling little loves
human
I am not likely to consult their interests, Kate, by yielding to unmanly emotion--am I, sweet Agnes?
gpt
Pray what do you think, Charles, of your friend _Mr. Gammon_, now? inquired Kate, suddenly and scornfully.
human
Oh, the smooth-tongued villain! I've always hated him!
gpt
I must say there's something about his eye that is anything but pleasing, said Mrs. Aubrey;
human
He's a hypocrite, Charles--depend upon it, and in this letter he has thrown off the mask
gpt
But _is_ it _his_ letter? How do we know that he has had anything to do with it? inquired her brother, calmly--
human
It is much more probable that it is the production of old Mr. Quirk alone, for whom Mr. Gammon has, I know, a profound contempt. The handwriting is Mr. Quirk's; the style is assuredly not Mr. Gammon's; and the whole tone of the communication is such as satisfies me that neither was the composition of the letter, nor the idea of sending it, his; besides, he has really shown on every occasion a straightforward and disinterested
gpt
Oh, Charles, it is very weak of you to be so hood-winked by such a fellow; I shudder to think of him! One of these days, Charles, you will be of my opinion, and recollect what I now say!
human
Heavens, Charles! who can that possibly be, and at this time of night?
gpt
I really cannot conjecture --replied Mr. Aubrey, with an agitation of manner which he found it impossible to conceal--