As the election day approached she suffered from a sinking of the heart, almost a bodily fear; a fear the same in kind as that of the wretched woman who anticipates the return of a brute-husband late on Saturday night.

The same in kind; no reasoning would overcome it.

She worked hard all day long, that at night she might fall on deep sleep.
Again she had taken up her hard German books, and was also busy with French histories of revolution, which did indeed fascinate her, though, as she half perceived, solely by the dramatic quality of the stories they told.

And at length the morning of her fear had come.
When he left home Mutimer bade her not expect him till the following day.

She spent the hours in loneliness and misery.