"Oh yes, Winthrop!"
It was said with breathless eagerness.
"I am almost afraid to do it."
"Why, Winthrop?"
"Hush —" he said gently; for her words came out with a sort of impatient hastiness; — "You don't know what kind of a place it is, Winnie. It isn't much like what home used to be."
"Nor this aint, neither," she murmured, nestling her head in his bosom.
"But you wouldn't have the free air and country — I am afraid it wouldn't be so good for you."
"Yes it would — it would be better for me. — I can't hardly be good at all, Governor, except where you are. I get cross now- a-days — it seems I can't help it — and I didn't use to do so —"
How gently the hand that was not round her was laid upon her cheek, as if at once forbidding and soothing her sorrow. For it was true, — Winnie's disease had wrought to make her irritable and fretful, very different from her former self. And it was true that Winthrop's presence governed it, as no other thing could.
"Would you rather go with me, Winnie?"