)--a
great change had taken place in her mind, which, by struggles only known
to herself, at least never mentioned to any one, and unsuspected by the
person who caused the pain she endured--had been schooled into such a
condition as she could not very likely have imagined possible a score of
months since, before her misfortunes had begun.

She had oldened in that time as people do who suffer silently great mental
pain; and learned much that she had never suspected before. She was taught
by that bitter teacher Misfortune. A child, the mother of other children,
but two years back her lord was a god to her; his words her law; his smile
her sunshine; his lazy commonplaces listened to eagerly, as if they were
words of wisdom--all his wishes and freaks obeyed with a servile devotion.
She had been my lord's chief slave and blind worshipper. Some women bear
farther than this, and submit not only to neglect but to unfaithfulness
too--but here this lady's allegiance had failed her. Her spirit rebelled
and disowned any more obedience. First she had to bear in secret the
passion of losing the adored object; then to get a farther initiation, and
to find this worshipped being was but a clumsy idol: then to admit the
silent truth, that it was she was superior, and not the monarch her
master: that she had thoughts which his brains could never master, and was
the better of the two; quite separate from my lord although tied to him,
and bound as almost all people (save a very happy few) to work all her
life alone. My lord sat in his chair, laughing his laugh, cracking his
joke, his face flushing with wine--my lady in her place over against him--he
never suspecting that his superior was there, in the calm resigned lady,
cold of manner, with downcast eyes. When he was merry in his cups, he
would make jokes about her coldness, and, "D---- it, now my lady is gone, we
will have t'other bottle," he would say. He was frank enough in telling
his thoughts, such as they were. There was little mystery about my lord's
words or actions. His fair Rosamond did not live in a labyrinth, like the
lady of Mr. Addison's opera, but paraded with painted cheeks and a tipsy
retinue in the country town. Had she a mind to be revenged, Lady
Castlewood could have found the way to her rival's house easily enough;
and, if she had come with bowl and dagger, would have been routed off the
ground by the enemy with a volley of Billingsgate, which the fair person
always kep