To Doctor Beddington she made neither complaint nor explanation. All she
wished was to quit the asylum as soon as she was restored to health, and
prove to her husband, by her future conduct, the sincerity of her
reformation. When she became convalescent, by the advice of Doctor
Beddington, she walked in a garden appropriated for the exercise of the
more harmless inmates of the asylum. The first day that she went out she
sat down upon a bench near to the keepers who were watching those who
were permitted to take the air and exercise, and overheard their
discourse, which referred to herself.

"Why, what was it as made her mad--d'ye know, Tom?"

"They say she's been no better all her life," replied the other; "a rat
would not live in the house with her: at last, in one of her tantrums,
she nearly murdered old Spinney, the clerk at Overton. The report went
out that he was dead; and conscience, I suppose, or summut of that kind,
run away with her senses."

"Oh, he warn't killed then?"

"No, no: I seed him and heard him too, Sunday 'fore last, when I went to
call upon old father; I was obligated to go to church, the old gemman's
so remarkable particular."

"And what's become of her husband, and that handsome young chap, her
son?"

"I don't know, nor nobody else either. The old man, who was as worthy an
old soul as ever breathed (more shame to the old faggot, for the life
she led him!) grew very unhappy and melancholy, and would not stay in