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"Just before he uttered this monstrous threat, I sprang from my chair
with horror, and caught him imploringly by both hands. I would have
saved him from that dreadful act, but I was too late. I saw him wrench
away his right hand, and raise it to strike me back.... I knew no more,
until Mrs. Frump, my niece, who has had charge of my household during
the past three years, entered the room, and found me stretched
insensible on the floor."
"I saw a part of the sad scene," said Marcus Wilkeson, who had listened
with mingled indignation and compassion to this strange tale. "Your son
was standing by that window, and you were sitting near him, also within
sight of me. I distinctly saw you catch your son's hands with your own;
he wrenched the right one away, and raised it; then you fell, but he did
not strike you, or attempt to. As you dropped to the floor, he glanced
anxiously through the window, saw me watching him, and then pulled down
the curtain."
"Then he did not strike me to the floor! I never believed he did, for
there was no bruise or other mark upon my head.


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