in its full vigor by the general, who was not well-meaning at all; he
usually meant nothing on earth by what he did, but the indulgence of the
present humor, good, bad, or indifferent. Lettice had lived in a sphere
of life where this sort of domestic violence used to be very common; and
she had learned to bear it, even from the lips of those she loved, with
patience. She knew this very well, and she thought to herself, "if I
could get into the habit of hardly caring for it from those very near
and dear to me, surely it will be easy enough to meet it with
indifference from a poor, cross, peevish, suffering old man, whom I
don't care for in the least. The way must be, to get into the habit of
it from the first, to let the words

"Pass by me as the idle wind which I regard not."

I must put all my vanity, all my spirit, all my own little tempers,
quietly out of the way; and never trouble myself with what he says, but
go reading on in the best way I can, to please him, but with the most
unruffled outward appearance of tranquillity; and the utmost secret
indifference as to whether I succeed or not. He shall be sooner tired of
scolding, than I of looking as if I never heard it. He'll give over if I
can persevere, instead of looking all colors and all ways, as that dear,
gentle Mrs. Melwyn does."

The trial at backgammon was, if such a thing could be, worse. It seemed
as if it was impossible to give satisfaction here. The general not only
played his own game, but insisted upon playing that of his adversary;
and was by turns angry at her stupidity in missing an advantage through
want of skill, asking, "What could be the possible interest or pleasure
of playing with such a mere child?" and vexed, if the plan he pointed
out ended in his own discomfiture, for he could not bear to lose.

Backgammon, too, was an unlucky game to be played with one of a temper
such as his. Every favorable throw of the dice, it is true, filled him
with a disagreeable sarcastic exultation; but a positively bad one, and
still more, a succession of bad ones, drove him furious. After a long
course of provoking throws, such as sometimes happen, he would seem half
mad, storm, curse, and swear, in the most ridiculous, if it had not been
blasphemous, manner; and sometimes end by banging the tables together,
and vowing he would never play at this confounded game again as long as
he lived.

There was an exhibition of this sort that very evening. Mrs. Me