recollection of his constant interference in matters peculiarly her
own; his evident contempt for her intellect; and his final efforts
to subdue her rising independence, and make her little less than a
domestic slave--and the fountain of her tears would become dry.
Added to all this, was the fact of his resolution to recover his
child by law. This crushed out all hope from her heart. He had no
affection left for her. His love had changed to hate. He had assumed
toward her the attitude of a persecutor. Nothing was now left for
her but self-protection.

In leaving the home of her husband, Mrs. Lane had exercised no
forethought. She made no estimate of consequences, and provided for
no future contingencies. She was blind in her faint-heartedness,
that was little less than despair. Any thing was better than to
remain in a state of submission, that had become, she felt,
intolerable. Leaving thus, Mrs. Lane had taken with her nothing
beyond a few dollars in her purse, and it was only an accident that
her purse was in her pocket. All her own clothes and those of her
child, except what they had on, were left behind.

Alarmed at the threat of her husband, Mrs. Lane, a few hours after
the conversation with Mrs. Edmondson, in which his views were made
known to her, took her child and went away. In parting with her
friend, she left upon her mind the impression that she was going
home. This was very far from her intention. Her purpose was to leave
New York, the city of her residence, as quickly as possible, and
flee to some obscure village, where she would remain hidden from her
husband. She had resided, some years before, for a short time in
Philadelphia; and thither she resolved to go, and from thence reach
some point in the country. On leaving the house of her friend, Mrs.