It was supposed he was drowned in crossing the river, as his body had never been found. Nor my grandfathers both. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. I fancy that this is a little more than playing at Bohemianism. She returned home to the Beck house soaked and soggy. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. It is impossible. Giles! "Devil seize the woman!" growled the singer, as he brought his ditty to a close; "will nothing tempt her out? Widow Sheppard, I say," he added, rising, "don't be afraid.
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