Hope sat upon a
great lump of coal, his daughter kneeled in front of him, gazing at him
with love, confidence, reverence; and Burnley kneeled in front of him
too, but at a greater distance, with wolfish eyes full of thirst and
nothing else.
At last the little can was two-thirds full of clear water. Hope took the
large iron spoon which he had found along with the tea, and gave a full
spoonful to his daughter. "My child," said he, "let it trickle very
slowly over your tongue and down your throat; it is the throat and the
adjacent organs which suffer most from thirst." He then took a spoonful
himself, not to drink after an assassin. He then gave a spoonful to
Burnley with the same instructions, and rose from his seat and gave the
can to Grace, and said, "The rest of this pittance must not be touched
for six hours at least."
Burnley, instead of complying with the wise advice given him, tossed the
liquid down his throat with a gesture, and then dashing down the spoon,
said, "I'll have the rest on't if I die for it," and made a furious rush
at Grace Hope.
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