The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. "I shall kill her if I stay longer," muttered her son, completely terrified. Descending the hollow, or rather excavation,—for it was an old disused clay-pit, at the bottom of which the cottage was situated,—he speedily succeeded in arousing the ancient sibyl, and having committed Edgeworth Bess to her care, with a promise of an abundant reward in case she watched diligently over her safety, and attended to her comforts till his return,—to all which Black Mary readily agreed,—he departed with a heart lightened of half its load. I must see if I have a gown fit to wear. You'll never be guided by me—never!" "Indeed, my love, you're entirely mistaken," returned the carpenter, endeavouring to deprecate his wife's rising resentment by the softest looks, and the meekest deportment. "Ah! now we come to business," returned Jonathan, rubbing his hands, gleefully. That is what marriage is to most young women: the ultimate escape from the family, from the unwritten laws that govern children. And then this girl had to sweep into and out of his life! He recalled McClintock's comment about Spurlock being the kind that fell soft.
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