nner as
they are tearing each other's eyes out? Suppose a woman is ever so
miserable, and yet smiles, and doesn't show her grief? "Quite right,"
say her prudent friends, and her husband's relations above all. "My
dear, you have too much propriety to exhibit your grief before the
world, or above all, before the darling children." So to lie is your
duty, to lie to your friends, to yourself if you can, to your children.

Does this discipline of hypocrisy improve any mortal woman? Say she
learns to smile after a blow, do you suppose in this matter alone she
will be a hypocrite? Poor Lady Clara! I fancy a better lot for you than
that to which fate handed you over. I fancy there need have been no
deceit in your fond simple little heart, could it but have been given
into other keeping. But you were consigned to a master, whose scorn and
cruelty terrified you; under whose sardonic glances your scared eyes
were afraid to look up, and before whose gloomy coldness you dared
not be happy. Suppose a little plant, very frail and delicate from the
first, but that might have bloomed sweetly and borne fair flowers, had
it received warm shelter and kindly nurture; suppose a young creature
taken out of her home, and given over to a hard master whose caresses
are as insulting as his neglect; consigned to cruel usage; to weary
loneliness; to bitter, bitter recollections of the past; suppose her
schooled into hypocrisy by tyranny--and then, quick, let us hire
an advocate to roar out to a British jury the wrongs of her injured
husband, to paint the agonies of his bleeding heart (if Mr. Advocate
gets plaintiff's brief in time, and before defendant's attorney has
retained him), and to show Society injured through him. Let us console
that martyr, I say, with thumping damages; and as for the woman--the
guilty wretch!--let us lead her out and stone her.

CHAPTER LVI. Rosa quo locorum sera moratur

Clive Newcome bore his defeat with such a courage and resolution as
those who knew the young fellow's character were sure he would display.
It was whilst he had a little lingering hope still that the poor lad was
in the worst condition; as a gambler is restless and unhappy whilst his
last few guineas remain with him, and he is venturing them against the
overpowering chances of the bank. His last piece, however, gone, our
friend rises up from that unlucky table beaten at the contest but not
broken in spirit. He goes back into the world again and