n that, Mistress, he drew his own neck out of the noose, and
let another fellow suffer the death he richly deserved. By his own
account, hanging is too good for such a monster. He should be burnt
alive."

"May God forgive him!" exclaimed Sophy, wringing her hands. "Alas!
alas! He was a kind, good man to me."

"Don't take on, my dear, after that fashion," said the other horseman,
with a knowing leer. "You were no mate for a fellow like him. Young and
pretty as you are, you will soon get a better husband."

Sophy turned from the speaker with a sickening feeling of disgust at him
and his ribald jest, and staggered back into the house. She was not many
minutes in making up her mind to go to her husband. Hastily packing up a
few necessaries in a small bundle, she called the old serving-man, who
had lived with her husband for many years, and bade him harness the
horse, and drive her to B----.

The journey was long and dreary, for it rained the whole day. Sophy did
not care for the rain; the dulness of the day was more congenial to her
present feelings: the gay beams of the sun would have seemed a mockery
to her bitter sorrow.

As they passed through the village, a troop of idle boys followed them
into the turnpike road, shouting at the top of their voices,--

"There goes Noah Cotton's wife!--the murderer's wife! Look how grand she
be in her fine chaise!"

"Ay," responded some human fiend, through an open window, loud enough to
reach the ears of the grief-stricken woman; "but pride will have a
fall."

The penitent Sophy wept afresh at these insults. "Oh," she sighed, "I
deserve all this. I was too proud. But they don't know how miserable I
am, or they would not causelessly inflict upon me another wound."

"Doan't take on so, Missus," said the good old serving-man, who, though
he had said nothing to her on the subject, felt keenly for her distress.
"Surely it's no fault o' yourn. You worn't born, I guess, when Measter
did this fearsome deed. I ha' lived with Noe these fourteen years, an' I
never 'spected him o' the like. He's about as queat a man as ever I
seed. He wor allers kind to the dumb beasts on the farm, an' you know,
Missus, that's a good sign. Some men are sich tyrants, that they must
vent their bad humours on suffin. If the survant doan't cotch it, why
the poor dumb creturs in their power do. Now I say, Noe wor a good
Measter, both to man an' beast, an' I pray they may find him innocent
yet."

Sophy had