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Various

"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 03, No. 15, January, 1859"

But she held the
tighter, and shouted, "Papa! my papa!"
What sudden freak overcame his anger probably not even Fletcher himself
could tell. But, turning towards his wife, who was supporting the
child, whose little fingers still held him fast, his face cleared
instantly, and, with a sudden movement, he drew the surprised and
delighted woman down upon his knee, and loaded her with every form of
childish endearment. Her tears and sorrows vanished together, like the
dew.
"Little duck," said he, "if I were alone, I shouldn't care for any more
money. I know I can always take care of myself. But for your sake I
want to be independent,--rich, if you please. I want to be free. I want
to meet that wily, smooth, plausible, damned, respectable villain face
to face, and with as much money as he."
His eyes danced with a furious light and motion, and the fringy
moustache trembled over his thin and sensitive mouth. But in a moment
he repented the outbreak; for his wife's face blanched then, and the
tears leaped from her eyes.
"Oh, John," she exclaimed, "what is this awful secret? I know that
something is killing you. You mutter in sleep; you are sullen at times;
and then you break out in this dreadful way.


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