On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. “It isn’t quite that we’re toys. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. One thing may be a necessary collateral of the others. If all wives were of my mind and my spirit, husbands would soon be taught their own insignificance.
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