r the marriage, she
ventured to unfold a little, as she had promised, but what there was
yet of womanhood in Hesper had shrunk from further acquaintance with
the dimly shadowed mysteries of Sepia's story; and Sepia, than whom
none more sensitive to change of atmosphere, had instantly closed
again; and now not unfrequently looked and spoke like one feeling her
way. The only life-principle she had, so far as I know, was to get from
the moment the greatest possible enjoyment that would leave the way
clear for more to follow. She had not been in his house a week before
Mr. Redmain hated her. He was something given to hating people who came
near him, and she came much too near. She was by no means so different
in character as to be repulsive to him; neither was she so much alike
as to be tiresome; their designs could not well clash, for she was a
woman and he was a man; if she had not been his wife's friend, they
might, perhaps, have got on together better than well; but the two were
such as must either be hand in glove or hate each other. There had not,
however, been the least approach to rupture between them. Mr. Redmain,
indeed, took no trouble to avoid such a catastrophe, but Sepia was far
too wise to allow even the dawn of such a risk. When he was ill, he
was, if possible, more rude to her than to every one else, but she did
not seem to mind it a straw. Perhaps she knew something of the ways of
such _gentlemen_ as lose their manners the moment they are ailing, and
seem to consider a headache or an attack of indigestion excuse
sufficient for behaving like the cad they scorn. It was not long,
however, before he began to take in her a very real interest, though
not of a sort it would have made her comfortable with him to know.

Every time Mr. Redmain had an attack, the baldness on the top of his
head widened, and the skin of his face tightened on his small, neat
features; his long arms looked longer; his formerly flat back rounded
yet a little; and his temper grew yet more curiously spiteful. Long
after he had begun to recover, he was by no means an agreeable
companion. Nevertheless, as if at last, though late in the day, she
must begin to teach her daughter the duty of a married woman, from the
moment he arrived, taken ill on the way, Lady Malice, regardless of the
brusqueness with which he treated her from the first, devoted herself
to him with an attention she had never shown her husband. She was the
only one who manife