"Not guilty!" replied the gipsy, with an air of mingled confidence and defiance.
His wife had not till that moment been aware of his presence. At the first tone of his voice, she sprang forward with a cry and look of intense delight, and throwing herself at his feet, embraced his knees, while joy and affection found vent in a passionate burst of tears. The gipsy seemed the least moved of any by the touching love of his wife; he rather suffered than returned her caresses, receiving them more as homage is accepted, than as fondness is requited.
How incomprehensible is woman's love!—it is not kindness that wins it, nor return that insures it; we daily see the most devoted attachment lavished on those who seem to us singularly unworthy. The Spectator shewed his usual knowledge of human nature, when, in speaking on this subject, he relates, that in a town besieged by the enemy, on the women being allowed to depart with whatever they held most precious, only one among them carried off her husband,—a man notorious for his tyrannical temper, and who had, moreover, a bad—or, as it turned out, a good—habit of beating his wife every morning. Well, all governments are maintained by fear—fear being our great principle of action; and fear, we are tempted to believe, heightens and strengthens the love of woman.
For a minute, even the judge interfered not with a display of emotion so earnest and so affecting;
