maintained by me, a mere woman, in everyday domestic life. I well remember mamma’s clasping her hands, and exclaiming ‘This will end in a little man!’ ” (Here Mr. Sampson glanced at his host and shook his head with despondency.) “She afterwards went so far as to predict that it would end in a little man whose mind would be below the average, but that was in what I may denominate a paroxysm of maternal disappointment. Within a month,” said Mrs. Wilfer, deepening her voice, as if she were relating a terrible ghost story, “within a-month, I first saw R. W. my husband. Within a year, I married him. It is natural for the mind to recall these dark coincidences on the present day.”
Mr. Sampson at length released from the custody of Mrs. Wilfer’s eye, now drew a long breath, and made the original and striking remark that there was no accounting for these sort of presentiments. R. W. scratched his head and looked apologetically all round the table until he came to his wife, when observing her as it were shrouded in a more sombre veil than before, he once more hinted, “My dear, I am really afraid you are not altogether enjoying yourself?” To which she once more replied, “On the contrary, R. W. Quite so.”