parted, leaving a fine but lifeless outline.
Marcella had seen it last on the night of the execution, in ghastly
apparition at Minta Hurd's window, when it might have been caught by
some sculptor in quest of the secrets of violent expression, fixed in
clay or marble, and labelled "Revenge," or "Passion."

Its passionless emptiness now filled her with pity and horror. She sat
down beside the widow and took her hand. Mrs. Westall allowed it for a
moment, then drew her own away suddenly, and Marcella saw a curious and
sinister contraction of the eyes.

"Ah! yo never know how much Isabella unnerstan's, an' how much she
don't," Mrs. Jellison was saying to Mary. "I can't allus make her out,
but she don't give no trouble. An' as for that boy, he's a chirruper, he
is. He gives 'em fine times at school, he do. Miss Barton, she ast him
in class, Thursday, 'bout Ananias and Sappira. 'Johnnie,' says she,
'whatever made 'em do sich a wicked thing?' 'Well, _I_ do'n' know,' says
he; 'it was jus' their nassty good-for-nothink,' says he; 'but they was
great sillies,' says he. Oh! he don't mean no harm!--lor' bless yer,
the men is all born contrary, and they can't help themselves. Oh! thank
yer, miss, my 'ealth is pretty tidy, though I 'ave been plagued this
winter with a something they call the 'flenzy. I wor very bad! 'Yo go to
bed, Mrs. Jellison,' says Dr. Sharpe, 'or yo'll know of it.' But I
worn't goin' to be talked to by 'im. Why, I knowed 'im when he wor no
'igher nor Johnnie. An' I kep' puddlin' along, an' one mornin' I wor
fairly choked, an' I just crawled into that parlour, an' I took a sup o'
brandy out o' the bottle"--she looked complacently at Mary, quite
conscious that the Rector's sister must be listening to her with
disapproving ears--"an', lor' bless yer, it cut the phlegm, it did, that
very moment. My! I did cough. I drawed it up by the yard, I did--and I
crep' back along the wall, and yo cud ha' knocked me down wi' one o' my
own straws. But I've been better iver since, an' beginnin' to eat my
vittles, too, though I'm never no great pecker--I ain't--not at no
time."

Mary managed to smother her emotions on the subject of the brandy, and
the old woman chattered on, throwing out the news of the village in a
series of humorous fragments, tinged in general with the lowest opinion
of human nature.

When the girls took leave of her, she said slily to Marcella:

"An' 'ow about your plaitin', miss?--though I dessay I'm a b