Whether her call would be answered was a question the foolish wife unfortunately forgot to consider; and into the rascal's pocket went the savings which Dr. Sanford had taken pains to have Bathalina lay by. Mixon's tenderness decreased in the same proportion as his bride's funds; and, when once he had obtained them all, the amiable Peter was amiable no longer. He began a course of reckless abuse, developing an imaginative ingenuity in the invention of curses and opprobrious epithets, which was wonderful to hear.
"I bore livin' with him as long as I could," Bathalina afterward confided to aunty Jeff; "but one day it was borne in upon me that I was unequally yoked with unbelievers, and I made up my mind, that, as it wasn't much of a marriage anyway, I wouldn't have no more to do with him. So I told him if he'd go over to Montfield, and ask Mis' Sanford would she take me back, I'd get out of his way, and he might marry 'Mandy West for what I cared."
The arrangements for Bathalina's return were easily concluded, and Mrs. Sanford and Will set out towards home once more. They drove rapidly, as the clouds were every moment becoming more threatening. Fate, however, had her purposes in their going, and interposed by breaking beneath the wheels of their carriage a decayed culvert. The buggy was overturned, mother and son being suddenly and unceremoniously tumbled in an undignified heap into the carriage-top. The horse stopped of his own will in spite of the alarming outcry of Mrs. Sanford, who moaned and shrieked, and wailed and lamented, while her son fished her from the wreck.
"'What can wringing of the hands do,
That which is ordained, to alter?'"
he remarked coolly.
"Will," his mother exclaimed, "do stop quoting things till we see if we are alive!"
A consultation ensued, if so it could be called where the lady refused to consult. Mrs. Sanford was far too plump to walk, and could hardly be expected to mount, and ride on horseback. There seemed no alternative but for her to remain where she was while her son went to the nearest farmhouse, a mile away, for a carriage.
When Will returned from his search, which was somewhat prolonged by the necessity of going to several places, his mother had disappeared. The cushions were piled up in the broken carriage; so he concluded that the lady's taking-off had not been violent, and followed the homeward road himself.
His way lay by Mullen House, the home of Ease Apthorpe and her aunt, Miss Tabitha Mullen. The mansion stood at some distance from the street, a stone wall surrounding the grounds. The principal entrance was an imposing gateway, whose iron gates were religiously closed at night, but stood open by day. As Sanford rode near, his eyes were greeted by a strange spectacle. In the gateway he saw Peter Mixon defending the passage against an angry woman, who, half crazed with drink or drugs, was loudly insisting upon entering. The woman's dark hair fell in tangled masses over her shoulders, and her handsome throat was bared by the neglect of her dress.