On reflection, it occurred to him that he might, perhaps, be able to loosen the iron fillet; a notion no sooner conceived than executed. At once. I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father. Other things came. Her faith in human beings revived. But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind. He had no use for Ann Veronica; he had never had a use for her since she had been too old to sit upon his knee.
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