It was a pity he didn't break his neck, for he was hanged within the year. Spare him!—pity me!" With this she arose, and, taking up the infant, was about to proceed down stairs, when she was alarmed by hearing the street-door opened, and the sound of heavy footsteps entering the house. 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. Die game. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. "It reminds you of a red sea suddenly petrified. One cannot trust any man at all.
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