wretchedness--I've made up my mind to misery, now.

"YOU'RE GLAD OF IT?

"Well, you must have a heart to say that. I declare to you, Caudle,
as true as I'm an ill-used woman, if it wasn't for the dear children
far away in blessed England--if it wasn't for them, I'd never go back
with you. No: I'd leave you in this very place. Yes; I'd go into a
convent; for a lady on board told me there was plenty of 'em here.
I'd go and be a nun for the rest of my days, and--I see nothing to
laugh at, Mr. Caudle; that you should be shaking the bed-things up
and down in that way. But you always laugh at people's feelings; I
wish you'd only some yourself. I'd be a nun, or a Sister of Charity.

"IMPOSSIBLE?

"Ha! Mr. Caudle, you don't know even now what I can be when my
blood's up. You've trod upon the worm long enough; some day won't
you be sorry for it!

"Now, none of your profane cryings out! You needn't talk about
Heaven in that way: I'm sure you're the last person who ought. What
I say is this. Your conduct at the Custom House was shameful--cruel!
And in a foreign land, too! But you brought me here that I might be
insulted; you'd no other reason for dragging me from England. Ha!
let me once get home, Mr. Caudle, and you may wear your tongue out
before you get me into outlandish places again.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?