'The night passed quickly, too. I don't mind sitting up, at all.'
'Sit up for me again, if you dare!' growled Jonas.
'I was reading,' she proceeded, 'all night long. I began when you went
out, and read till you came home again. The strangest story, Jonas! And
true, the book says. I'll tell it you to-morrow.'
'True, was it?' said Jonas, doggedly.
'So the book says.'
'Was there anything in it, about a man's being determined to conquer his
wife, break her spirit, bend her temper, crush all her humours like so
many nut-shells--kill her, for aught I know?' said Jonas.
'No. Not a word,' she answered quickly.
'Oh!' he returned. 'That'll be a true story though, before long; for all
the book says nothing about it. It's a lying book, I see. A fit book for
a lying reader. But you're deaf. I forgot that.'
There was another interval of silence; and the boy was stealing away,
when he heard her footstep on the floor, and stopped. She went up to
him, as it seemed, and spoke lovingly; saying that she would defer to
him in everything and would consult his wishes and obey them, and they
might be very happy if he would be gentle with her.
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