, the things she required were absolute necessaries. The want in
its way was as great as she had ever known. Yes, insult--for every
little negligence was felt as an insult--Lettice knew too well that as
an insult it was intended. What made this kind Mrs. Melwyn permit such
things? Weakness, nothing but weakness--culpable weakness--horror of
that which would give her feeble spirit pain.

Lettice found it extremely difficult to be candid in this instance. She
who had never experienced what this weakness of the spirit was, found it
almost impossible to be indulgent to it. She felt quite vexed and sore.
But when she looked so, poor Mrs. Melwyn would put on such a sad,
anxious, weary face, that it was impossible not to feel concerned for
her, and to forgive her at once. And so this good, generous,
kind-hearted being's temper achieved another victory. She was able to
love Mrs. Melwyn in spite of all her weakness, and the evils she in
consequence suffered; and this indulgent affection made every thing
easy.

There were times, however, when she found it almost too difficult to get
on; but upon one occasion after another occurring of this nature, and
still more when she discovered that Mrs. Melwyn was a yet greater
sufferer from this servile tyranny than herself, she at last determined
to speak out, and see whether things could not be established upon a
more reasonable and proper footing.

There was one day a terrible quarrel with Randall. It happened that
Randall was from home, drinking tea with a friend. She had either bound
up the general's ailing arm too tight, or the arm had swelled; however,
for some reason or other the injured part became extremely painful. The
general fidgeted and swore, but bore it for some time with the sort of
resolute determination, with which, to do him justice, he was accustomed
to meet pain. At last the aching became so intolerable that it was
scarcely to be endured; and after ringing twenty times to inquire
whether Randall was come home, and uttering a heavy imprecation each
time he was answered in the negative; what between pain and impatience
he became so fevered that he really seemed quite ill, and his sufferings
were evidently more than he could well endure. Poor Mrs. Melwyn,
helpless and feeble, dared not propose to do any thing for him, though
she suffered--soft, kind creature that she was--almost more in
witnessing his distress than he did in the midst of it. At last Lettice
ventured to