had past, Before I quarrell'd with Harry -- my quarrel -- the first an' the last. XIII. For Harry came in, an' I flung him the letter that drove me wild, An' he told it me all at once, as simple as any child, 'What can it matter, my lass, what I did wi' my single life? I ha' been as true to you as ever a man to his wife; An' she wasn't one o' the worst.' 'Then,' I said, 'I'm none o' the best.' An' he smiled at me, 'Ain't you, my love? Come, come, little wife, let it rest! The man isn't like the woman, no need to make such a stir.' But he anger'd me all the more, an' I said 'You were keeping with her, When I was a-loving you all along an' the same as before.' An' he didn't speak for a while, an' he anger'd me more and more. 'Then he patted my hand in his gentle way, 'Let bygones be!' 'Bygones! you kept yours hush'd,' I said, 'when you married me! By-gones ma' be come-agains; an' she -- in her shame an' her sin -- You'll have her to nurse my child, if I die o' my lying in! You'll make her its second mother! I hate her -- an' I hate you!' Ah, Harry, my man, you had better ha' beaten me black an' blue Than ha' spoken as kind as you did, when I were so crazy wi' spite, 'Wait