When the bell rang for dinner, I felt half sorry that I had
commenced this new mode of managing my husband; but, as I had begun,
I was determined to go through with it. "He'll at least take care
how he acts in the future," I said. I did not leave my chamber to
join my husband at the dinner table. He sat his usual time, as I
could tell by the ringing of the bell for the servant to change the
plates and bring in the dessert. I was exceedingly fretted; and more
so by his returning to his business without calling up to see me,
and making another effort to dispel my grief.

For three days I tried this experiment upon my husband, who bore it
with the unflinching heroism of a martyr. I was forced, at last, to
come to; but I was by no means satisfied that my new mode was a
failure. For all Mr. Smith's assumed indifference, I knew that he
had been troubled at heart, and I was pretty well satisfied that he
would think twice before provoking me to another essay of tears.
Upon the whole, I felt pretty sure that I had discovered the means
of doing with him as I pleased.

A few weeks of sunshine passed--I must own that the sun did not look
so bright, nor feel so warm as it had done in former times--and then
our wills came once more into collision. But my tears fell upon a
rock. I could not see that they made the least perceptible
impression. Mr. Smith had his own way, and I cried about it until I
got tired of that sport, and in very weariness gave over. For the
space of a whole year I stood upon tears as my last defensible
position. Sometimes I didn't smile for weeks. But my husband
maintained his ground like a hero.

At last I gave up in despair. Pride, self-will, anger--all were