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Various

"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 12, No. 74, December, 1863"


It's the way with husbands and wives, sometimes. Well"--
He swallowed some choking in his throat, and hurried on.
"She had some money,--not much, but her own. I wanted it. Then I stopped
to think. This engine seemed like a greedy devil swallowing everything.
Another step, and she was penniless, ruined: common sense told me that.
And I loved her,--well enough to see how my work came between us every
hour, made me cruel to her, kept her wretched. If I were gone, she would
be better off. I said that to myself day after day. I used to finger the
bonds of that money, thinking how it would enable me to finish all I had
to do. She wanted me to take it. I knew some day I should do it."
"Did you?"
"No,"--his face clearing. "I was not altogether lost, I think. I left
her, settling it on herself. Then I was out of temptation. But I
deceived her: I said I was tired of married life, wished to give myself
to my work. Then I left her."
"What did she say?"
"She? Nothing that I remember. 'As thee will, Joseph,' that was all, if
anything. She had suspected it a long time. If I had stayed with her, I
should have used that money,"--his fingers working with his white
whiskers.


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