Soon the wife gave up her favorite authors to read the husband's notes; then she gave up all reading to relieve him of details; at last her very being was placed on the altar of sacrifice--fuel to feed the flame of his fame and genius.
Long before the end came she was submerged and almost forgotten.

One day two distinguished foreign authors called upon Mr.and Mrs.Carlyle.
For an hour the philosopher poured forth vehement tirade against the commercial spirit, while the good wife never once opened her lips.

At last the author ceased talking, and there was silence for a time.
Suddenly Carlyle thundered: "Jane, stop breathing so loud!" Long years before Jane had stopped doing everything else except breathe.

And so, obedient to the injunction, a few days afterward she ceased "breathing so loud." When a few weeks had gone by Carlyle discovered, through reading her journal, that his wife had for want of affection frozen and starved to death within his home like some poor traveler who had fallen in the snows beyond the door.

For years, without his realizing it, she had kept all the wheels oiled, kept his body in health and his mind in happiness.