"Look at it," said she.

"That blood's of your shedding!" and at this Hayes fairly began to weep, so utterly downcast and frightened was the miserable man.

The wretch's tears only inspired his wife with a still greater rage and loathing; she cared not so much for the blow, but she hated the man: the man to whom she was tied for ever--for ever! The bar between her and wealth, happiness, love, rank perhaps.

"If I were free," thought Mrs.Hayes (the thought had been sitting at her pillow all night, and whispering ceaselessly into her ear)--, "If I were free, Max would marry me; I know he would:--he said so yesterday!" ***** As if by a kind of intuition, old Wood seemed to read all this woman's thoughts; for he said that day with a sneer, that he would wager she was thinking how much better it would be to be a Count's lady than a poor miser's wife.

"And faith," said he, "a Count and a chariot-and-six is better than an old skinflint with a cudgel." And then he asked her if her head was better, and supposed that she was used to beating; and cut sundry other jokes, which made the poor wretch's wounds of mind and body feel a thousand times sorer.
Tom, too, was made acquainted with the dispute, and swore his accustomed vengeance against his stepfather.