e entire housework herself: when times were hardest,
she had even taken in a lodger, not thinking herself above cooking and
taking up his dinner. She had noticed that her economies endeared
her to the Major, and it was pleasant to please him. Hers was a
kind-hearted, simple nature, that misfortune had brought down in the
world; but, as is not uncommon with persons of weak character, she
possessed a clear, sensible mind which allowed her to see things
in their true lights, and without difficulty she recognized the
unalterable nature of her case. It mattered little whether the Major
acknowledged her or not, his family would never have anything to do
with her; the doors of Society were for ever closed against her. So
within a year of her marriage with the Major she was convinced that
her marriage had better be kept a secret; for, by helping to keep it
a secret, she could make substantial amends to the man who had married
her; by proclaiming it to the world, she would only alienate his
affection. She understood this very well, and in all docility and
obedience lent herself to the deception, accepting without complaint
a mean and clandestine existence. But she would not allow her little
girl to carry up a jug of hot water, and it was only rarely, when
prostrate with pain, that she allowed Nellie to take the basket and
run round to the butcher's and buy a bit of steak for their dinner.
The heiress of Appleton Park must be brought up free from all
degrading memory. But for herself she had no care. Appleton Park could
never be anything to her, even if she outlived the old people, which
was hardly probable. What would she, a poor invalid, do there? She did
not wish to compromise her husband's future, and still less the future
of her darling daughter. She could only hope that, when dead, her sins
would be forgiven her; and that this release might not be long delayed
she often prayed. The house was poor, and she was miserable, but any
place was good enough to suffer in. So she said when she rose and
dragged herself downstairs to do a little cooking; and the same
thought came to her when she lay all alone in the little parlour,
furnished with what a few pounds could buy--a paraffin-lamp, a round
table, a few chairs, an old and ill-padded mahogany armchair, in which
it was a torture to lie; not an ornament on the chimney-piece, not
a flower, not a book to while away the interminable hours. From
the barren little passage, covered with