But she
did not stay long upbraiding herself for her shortsightedness, so
overwhelmed was she with misery at the spectacle of herself as an
intruder between these. To be sure she could not have foreseen such
a conjuncture; but that did not lessen her grief. The woman who had
been both her husband's bliss and his backsliding had reappeared
free when he was no longer so, and she evidently was dying to claim
her own in the person of Dorothy, who had meanwhile grown to be, to
Lady Mottisfont, almost the only source of each day's happiness,
supplying her with something to watch over, inspiring her with the
sense of maternity, and so largely reflecting her husband's nature
as almost to deceive her into the pleasant belief that she reflected
her own also.
If there was a single direction in which this devoted and virtuous
lady erred, it was in the direction of over-submissiveness. When
all is said and done, and the truth told, men seldom show much self-
sacrifice in their conduct as lords and masters to helpless women
bound to them for life, and perhaps (though I say it with all
uncertainty) if she had blazed up in his face like a furze-faggot,
directly he came home, she might have helped herself a little. But
God knows whether this is a true supposition; at any rate she did no
such thing; and waited and prayed that she might never do despite to
him who, she was bound to admit, had always been tender and
courteous towards her; and hoped that little Dorothy might never be
taken away.
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