woman, who might have passed for
twenty-five, and whose hair at eighteen was beginning to turn gray. It
was the fever, the people said, and Hannah permitted them to think so,
though she knew that the cause lay behind the fever, and dated from the
awful night when Joel Rogers came into their kitchen, and asked for
shelter from the storm, which was readily granted him.

It was probably his last visit, he said, as it was doubtful if he ever
returned to America, for he meant to settle down and die in Carnarvon,
his old home, where his only sister, Elizabeth, was living. Then he
talked of his money, which, he said, was considerable, and was mostly
invested in some slate quarries in the vicinity of Carnarvon.

For a long time the two men sat before the wood fire, talking of England
and Wales, eating the apples which Hannah brought them from the cellar,
and drinking freely of some wine which Peter had made himself, and which
he brought out in honor of his friend's last visit.

This at last began to take effect, making them loud and noisy, and
inclined to contradict each other, and quarrel generally, and then, as
the peddler was counting out his gold, of which he had several hundred
dollars he turned suddenly to Mr. Jerrold, and said:

"By the way, you have never paid me the five dollars I loaned you when
I was here last winter."

The latter affirmed that he had paid it in the spring, and that Hannah
saw him do it, which was the fact. But the peddler persisted in his
demand, and grew louder and more vociferous in his language, calling
both Peter Jerrold and Hannah liars, and saying he would have his money
if he went to law to get it.

A violent quarrel then ensued, and such epithets as liar, cheat, and
swindler were freely interchanged, and then there was a simultaneous
spring at each other, the chairs were overturned and they were rolling
upon the floor, dealing each other fierce blows and tearing each other's
hair like wild beasts. It was the peddler who struck first, but Peter,
being the stronger of the two, got his antagonist under him, and with a
stick of wood which was lying upon the hearth struck him upon the head,
inflicting a fearful wound from which the blood flowed in torrents,
staining Peter's hands and face as he pushed back his hair, and sobered
him at once. But it was too late, for when Hannah, who, during the
fight, had cowered in the corner with her hands over her eyes, withdrew
them as the struggle ceas