She had been unhappy and remorseful for a long time, but she was in despair.

It was too late for repentance, she thought.

There was nothing for it but to go on to the dreadful end.
Sometimes, when she was almost mad, she--well, she took to drink, you know, and he wasn't in any way a good or kind protector to her--Thorndyke wasn't." My lady flung up both arms with a shrill scream.
"Not that name," she cried--"not that accursed name, if you would not drive me mad!" "I beg your pardon!" said Mr.Parmalee; "I won't.

Well, she heard of your father's death--_he_ told her, you see--and that completed her despair.

She took to drink worse and worse; she got out of all bounds--sort of frantic, you see.