er lasted. Lettice was surprised herself, to
find how easily the task, which had appeared so awful, was discharged;
but she had not long to congratulate herself. Gradually, at first by
slow degrees, but afterward like the accelerated descent of a stone down
the hill, acquired habit gave way to constitutional ill-humor. Alas,
they tell us nature expelled with a pitchfork will make her way back
again; most true of the unregenerated nature--most true of the poor
blind heathen--or the poor untutored Christian, to all intents and
purposes a heathen--too true even of those assisted by better
considerations, higher principles, and higher aids.

First it was a little low grumbling; then a few impatient gestures; then
a few impatient words--words became sentences; sentences of
invective--soon it was with her, just as it had been with others. This
graduated progression assisted, however, gradually to harden and prepare
her. She was resolved not to look frightened, though her very knees
would knock together at times. She was determined never to allow herself
to feel provoked or hurt, or ill-used, let the general be ever so rude;
and to soften her heart by any such ideas she never allowed herself.
Steadily she kept in mind that he was a suffering, ill-disciplined,
irritable old man; and by keeping these considerations in view, she
actually achieved the most difficult--almost heroic effort. She managed
to attain a frame of mind in which she could pity his sufferings, feel
indulgence for his faults, and remain quite placid under their effects
as regarded herself.

This conduct before a very long time had elapsed produced an effect far
more agreeable than she had ever ventured to anticipate.

The general began to like her.

Like many other cross people, he was excessively difficult to be pleased
in one article--the way people took his scoldings. He was offended if
they were received with cheerfulness--in the way Edgar had tried to
laugh them off--he was still more vexed if people seemed hurt or
suffering under them: if they cried, it was bad, indeed. Like many
others not absolutely wicked and cruel, though he could not control his
temper, he really did feel vexed at seeing the pain he had produced. His
conscience would cry out a little at such times. Now, nothing made him
so uncomfortable and irritable, as having a quarrel with his conscience;
a thing that did not very often happen, to be sure--the said conscience
being in his cas