suffered from that
jealous excitement which is conventionally attributed to all wives in
such circumstances. But though possessed by none of that feline
wildness which it was her moral duty to experience, she did not fail to
know that she had made a frightful mistake in her marriage.
Acquiescence in her father's wishes had been degradation to herself.
People are not given premonitions for nothing; she should have obeyed
her impulse on that early morning, and steadfastly refused her hand.

Oh, that plausible tale which her then betrothed had told her about
Suke--the dramatic account of her entreaties to him to draw the aching
enemy, and the fine artistic touch he had given to the story by
explaining that it was a lovely molar without a flaw!

She traced the remainder of the woodland track dazed by the
complications of her position. If his protestations to her before
their marriage could be believed, her husband had felt affection of
some sort for herself and this woman simultaneously; and was now again
spreading the same emotion over Mrs. Charmond and herself conjointly,
his manner being still kind and fond at times. But surely, rather than
that, he must have played the hypocrite towards her in each case with
elaborate completeness; and the thought of this sickened her, for it
involved the conjecture that if he had not loved her, his only motive
for making her his wife must have been her little fortune. Yet here
Grace made a mistake, for the love of men like Fitzpiers is
unquestionably of such quality as to bear division and transference.
He had indeed, once declared, though not to her, that on one occasion
he had noticed himself to be possessed by five distinct infatuations at
the same time. Therein it differed from the highest affection as the
lower orders of the animal world differ from advanced organisms,
partition causing, not death, but a multiplied existence. He had loved
her sincerely, and had by no means ceased to love her now. But such
double and treble barrelled hearts were naturally beyond her conception.

Of poor Suke Damson, Grace thought no more. She had had her day.

"If he does not love me I will not love him!" said Grace, proudly. And
though these were mere words, it was a somewhat formidable thing for
Fitzpiers that her heart was approximating to a state in which it might
be possible to carry them out. That very absence of hot jealousy which
made his courses so easy, and on which, indeed, he