I was scarcely more than a child then,'
she continued, 'and though I liked Kew very much--who would not like
such a generous honest creature? I felt somehow that I was taller
than my cousin, and as if I ought not to marry him, or should make him
unhappy if I did. When poor papa used to talk, we children remarked
that mamma hardly listened to him; and so we did not respect him as we
should, and Barnes was especially scoffing and odious with him. Why,
when he was a boy, he used to sneer at papa openly before us younger
ones. Now Harriet admires everything that Kew says, and that makes her a
great deal happier at being with him.' And then," added Mrs. Pendennis,
"Ethel said, 'I hope you respect your husband, Laura: depend on it, you
will be happier if you do.' Was not that a fine discovery of Ethel's,
Mr. Pen?

"'Clara's terror of Barnes frightened me when I stayed in the house,'
Ethel went on. 'I am sure I would not tremble before any man in the
world as she did. I saw early that she used to deceive him, and tell him
lies, Laura. I do not mean lies of words alone, but lies of looks and
actions. Oh! I do not wonder at her flying from him. He was dreadful to
be with: cruel, and selfish, and cold. He was made worse by marrying a
woman he did not love; as she was, by that unfortunate union with him.
Suppose he had found a clever woman who could have controlled him, and
amused him, and whom he and his friends could have admired, instead of
poor Clara, who made his home wearisome, and trembled when he entered
it? Suppose she could have married that unhappy man to whom she was
attached early? I was frightened, Laura, to think how ill this worldly
marriage had prospered.

"'My poor grandmother, whenever I spoke upon such a subject, would break
out into a thousand gibes and sarcasms, and point to many of our friends
who had made love-matches, and were quarrelling now as fiercely as
though they had never loved each other. You remember that dreadful case
in France Duc de ----, who murdered his duchess? That was a love-match,
and I can remember the sort of screech with which Lady Kew used to speak
about it; and of the journal which the poor duchess kept, and in which
she noted down all her husband's ill-behaviour.'"

"Hush, Laura! Do you remember where we are? If the Princess were to
put down all Florac's culpabilities in an album, what a ledger it would
be--as big as Dr. Portman's Chrysostom!" But this was parenthetical: and
afte