Thus, in a few minutes, had this happy family been plunged into the depths of misery. Her girl Clarice was next, dying within a single day, blood leaking from her pretty brown eyes like an image of the Blessed Virgin. ‘Lover’s tiff indeed. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. "I'll pledge you in that toast with all my heart. She did not learn the kind of looks she had been bestowing upon him at a convent.
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