Her bonnet fell back, and long wavy streams of black hair fell around her singular and melancholy-face.
"It's no use, my poor fellow!" she broke out, at last, "it's of no use, this you've been trying to do.

You were a brave fellow,--you had the right on your side; but it's all in vain, and out of the question, for you to struggle.

You are in the devil's hands;--he is the strongest, and you must give up!" Give up! and, had not human weakness and physical agony whispered that, before?
Tom started; for the bitter woman, with her wild eyes and melancholy voice, seemed to him an embodiment of the temptation with which he had been wrestling.
"O Lord! O Lord!" he groaned, "how can I give up ?" "There's no use calling on the Lord,--he never hears," said the woman, steadily; "there isn't any God, I believe; or, if there is, he's taken sides against us.

All goes against us, heaven and earth.

Everything is pushing us into hell.