"I wish father would not speak to me as he does. He means well, as I telled yo' yesterday, and tell yo' again and again. But yo' see, though I don't believe him a bit by day, yet by night--when I'm in a fever, half asleep and half awake--it comes back upon me--oh! so bad! And I think, if this should be th' end of all, and if all I've been born for is just to work my heart and my life away, and to sicken i' this dree place, wi' them mill-noises in my ears for ever, until I could scream out for them to stop, and let me have a little piece o' quiet--and wi' the fluff filling my lungs, until I thirst to death for one long deep breath o' the clear air yo' speak on--and my mother gone, and I never able to tell her again how I loved her, and o' all my troubles--I think if this life is th' end, and there's no God to wipe away all tears from all eyes--yo' wench, yo'!" said she, sitting up, and clutching violently, almost fiercely, at Margaret's hand, "I could go mad, and kill yo, I could." She fell back completely worn out with her passion. Margaret knelt down by her.
"Bessy--we have a Father in Heaven."

'I wish father would not speak as he does. He means well. But yo' see, though I don't believe him by day, yet by night - when I'm in a fever, half-asleep - it comes back upon me - oh! so bad! And I think, if this should be th' end of everything, and if all I've been born for is just to work my heart and my life away i' this dreary place, wi' them mill-noises in my ears for ever, until I could scream out for them to stop and let me have a little quiet - and wi' the fluff filling my lungs, until I long for one deep breath o' clear air - and my mother gone, and I never able to tell her again how I loved her - I think if this life is th' end, and that there's no God to wipe away all tears from all eyes-' She sat up, clutching violently at Margaret's hand. 'I could go mad, and kill yo', I could.' She fell back, worn out with her passion.
Margaret knelt down by her.
'Bessy - we have a Father in Heaven.'
