"Put down your burthen, monster!" shouted Wood, pointing an immense blunderbuss at him. For I still love her mother. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. "I have no sympathy," replied Prudence, "with a man who deliberately fuddles himself with strong drink. I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father. A neighbor stopped by as the day wore on, causing her to duck and cower as he rang the doorbell over and over.
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