" He smiled at her as he smiled at death, cheerfully. He continued tenderly, almost affectionately. She had come to despise those who were fertile out of pure jealousy, but could not admit it to herself. The plank hung over his head. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. I hear they are very much affected by the tragedies of their neighbours in France. In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire. I know who hits hardest. We both understood that.
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