For days I have been undecided as to whether I would come to you or no. Meysey Hill—never your wife. From the beginning. Her breath came fast in little sobbing pants. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. Wood, despair will come over me; and, dear as this babe is to me, far dearer than my own wretched life, which I would lay down for him any minute, I have prayed to Heaven to remove him, rather than he should grow up to be a man, and be exposed to his father's temptations—rather than he should live as wickedly and die as disgracefully as his father. Taking the direction pointed out, he rode off. Luck.
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