more than repays me
for all I have done for you."

"If professions of repentance constitute a Magdalene, Mrs. Sheppard is
one, no doubt," observed Mrs. Wood, ironically; "but I used to think it
required something more than _mere words_ to prove that a person's
character was abused."

"Very right, my love," said Wood, "very sensibly remarked. So it does.
Bu I can speak to that point. Mrs. Sheppard's conduct, from my own
personal knowledge, has been unexceptionable for the last twelve years.
During that period she has been a model of propriety."

"Oh! of course," rejoined Mrs. Wood; "I can't for an instant question
such distinterested testimony. Mrs. Sheppard, I'm sure, will say as much
for you. He's a model of conjugal attachment and fidelity, a pattern to
his family, and an example to his neighbours. Ain't he, Madam?'"

"He is, indeed," replied the widow, fervently; "more--much more than
that."

"He's no such thing!" cried Mrs. Wood, furiously. "He's a base,
deceitful, tyrannical, hoary-headed libertine--that's what he is. But,
I'll expose him. I'll proclaim his misdoings to the world; and, then, we
shall see where he'll stand. Marry, come up! I'll show him what an
injured wife can do. If all wives were of my mind and my spirit,
husbands would soon be taught their own insignificance. But a time
_will_ come (and that before long,) when our sex will assert its
superiority; and, when we have got the upper hand, let 'em try to subdue
us if they can. But don't suppose, Madam, that anything I say has
reference to you. I'm speaking of virtuous women--of WIVES, Madam.
Mistresses neither deserve consideration nor commiseration."

"I expect no commiseration," returned Mrs. Sheppard, gently, "nor do I
need any. But, rather than be the cause of any further misunderstanding
between you and my benefactor, I will leave London and its neighbourhood
for ever."

"Pray do so, Madam," retorted Mrs. Wood, "and take your son with you."

"My son!" echoed the widow, trembling.

"Yes, your son, Madam. If you can do any good with him, it's more than
we can. The house will be well rid of him, for a more idle,
good-for-nothing reprobate never crossed its threshold."

"Is this true, Sir?" cried Mrs. Sheppard, with an agonized look at Wood.
"I know you'll not deceive me. Is Jack what Mrs. Wood represents him?"

"He's not exactly what I could desire him to be, Joan," replied the
carpenter, reluctantly, "But a ragged colt sometimes makes