’ *** Martha sniffed dolefully, scrubbing at her reddened eyes with a large square of damp linen. Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. She must learn wisdom—as God pleases. In addition, the Fadden Dance business, all out of proportion, occupied the whole foreground of her thoughts and threw a color of rebellion over everything. Sheppard was committed to the earth. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs.
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