But, after a while, his variable temper changed, as
usual. He grew sulky, rude, angry, and, at last, downright
jealous of Mr. Meeke. Though too proud to confess it in so many
words, he still showed the state of his mind clearly enough to my
mistress to excite her indignation. She was a woman who could be
led anywhere by any one for whom she had a regard, but there was
a firm spirit within her that rose at the slightest show of
injustice or oppression, and that resented tyrannical usage of
any sort perhaps a little too warmly. The bare suspicion that her
husband could feel any distrust of her set her all in a flame,
and she took the most unfortunate, and yet, at the same time, the
most natural way for a woman, of resenting it. The ruder her
husband was to Mr. Meeke the more kindly she behaved to him. This
led to serious disputes and dissensions, and thence, in time, to
a violent quarrel. I could not avoid hearing the last part of the
altercation between them, for it took place in the garden-walk,
outside the dining-room window, while I was occupied in laying
the table for lunch.
Without repeating their words--which I have no right to do,
having heard by accident what I had no business to hear--I may
say generally, to show how serious the quarrel was, that my
mistress charged my master with having married from mercenary
motives, with keeping out of her company as much as he could, and
with insulting her by a suspicion which it would be hard ever to
forgive, and impossible ever to forget.
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