Both of them looked at her; but as they were utterly incapable of understanding what she felt, this natural struggle of a great but neglected spirit excited nothing on their part but mere indifference.
At this moment, the prophet, who seemed laboring under a fierce but gloomy mood, rose suddenly up, and exclaimed-- "Nelly--Sarah!--I can bear this, no longer; the saicret must come out.

I am--" "Stop," screamed Sarah, "don't say it--don't say it! Let me leave the counthry.

Let me go somewhere--any where--let me--let me--die first." "I am----," said he.
"I know it," replied his wife; "a murdherer! I know it now--I knew it since yesterday mornin'." "Give him justice," said Sarah, now dreadfully excited, and seizing him by the breast of his coat,--"give him common justice--give the man justice, I say.

You are my father, aren't you?
Say how you did it.

It was a struggle--a fight; he opposed you--he did, and your blood riz, and you stabbed him for fear he might stab you.