He tracks them out (my poor, straggling, feeble
ideas) and either they take the oath of allegiance, or they are
buried where they lie. The process is like the spoiling of a child,
I find; the more you give him, the more he wants. And if any little
thing is refused, then you see him set out upon a regular campaign
to break you down and get it."
A month or more later she wrote: "Poor Douglas is getting restless.
He has caught every kind of fish there is to catch, and hunted every
kind of animal and bird, in and out of season. Harley has gone home,
and so have our other guests; it would be embarrassing to me to have
company now. So Douglas has no one but the doctor and myself and my
poor aunt. He has spoken several times of our going away; but I do
not want to go, and I think I ought to consider my own health at
this critical time. It is hot here, but I simply thrive in it--I
never felt in better health. So I asked him to go up to New York, or
visit somewhere for a while, and let me stay here until my baby is
born. Does that seem so very unreasonable? It does not to me, but
poor Aunt Varina is in agony about it--I am letting my husband drift
away from me!
"I speculate about my lot as a woman; I see the bitterness and the
sorrow of my sex through the ages.
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