“Pity!” shrieked the widow.
“I'll be his evil genius!” vociferated Jonathan, who seemed to enjoy her torture.
“Begone, wretch!” cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; “or I will drive you hence with my curses.”
“Curse on, and welcome,” jeered Wild.
Mrs. Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue. But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child.
“A mother's prayers—a mother's blessings,” she cried, with the fervour almost of inspiration, “will avail against a fiend's malice.”
“We shall see,” rejoined Jonathan, turning carelessly upon his heel.
And, as he quitted the room, the poor widow fell with her face upon the floor.