Miss Ellicot, who sang ballads, and liked Brendon to turn over the pages for her, tossed her head. “Your brother has gone?” she asked Sydney, between the courses. We do not remember to have met with a single individual, reported to be under petticoat government, who was not content with his lot,—nay, who so far from repining, did not exult in his servitude; and we see no way of accounting for this apparently inexplicable conduct—for which, among other phenomena of married life, various reasons have been assigned, though none entirely satisfactory to us—except upon the ground that these domineering dames possess some charm sufficiently strong to counteract the irritating effect of their tempers; some secret and attractive quality of which the world at large is in ignorance, and with which their husbands alone can be supposed to be acquainted. It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was more, full of understanding. ‘Oh, peste,’ she cried out in distressed tones.
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