to
what was there present. And, because he did not seek the good, never
yet in all his life had he come near enough to a righteous man to
recognize that in something or other that man was different from
himself. As for women--there was his wife--of whom he was willing to
think as well as she would let him! And she, firmly did he believe, was
an angel beside Sepia!--of whom, bad as she was, it is quite possible
he thought yet worse than she deserved: alas for the woman who is not
good, and falls under the judgment of a bad man!--the good woman he can
no more hurt than the serpent can bite the adamant. He believed he knew
Sepia's self, although he did not yet know her history; and he scorned
her the more that he was not a hair better himself. He had regard
enough for his wife, and what virtue his penetration conceded her, to
hate their intimacy; and ever since his marriage had been scheming how
to get rid of Sepia--only, however, through finding her out: he must
unmask her: there would be no satisfaction in getting rid of her
without his wife's convinced acquiescence. He had been, therefore,
almost all the time more or less on the watch to uncover the wickedness
he felt sure lay at no great depth beneath her surface; and in the mean
time, and for the sake of this end, he lived on terms of decent
domiciliation with her. She had no suspicion how thin was the crust
between her and the lava.

In Cornwall, he began at length to puzzle himself about Mary. Of course
she was just like the rest! but he did not at once succeed in fitting
what he saw to what he entirely believed of her. She remained, like
Sepia, a riddle to be solved. He was not so ignorant as his wife
concerning the relations of the different classes, and he felt certain
there must be some reason, of course a discreditable one, for her
leaving her former, and taking her present, position. The attack he had
in Cornwall afforded him unexpected opportunity of making her out, as
he called it.

Upon this occasion it was also that Mary first ventured to expostulate
with her mistress on her neglect of her husband. She heard her
patiently; and the same day, going to his room, paid him some small
attention--handed him his medicine, I believe, but clumsily, because
ungraciously. The next moment, one of his fits of pain coming on, he
broke into such a torrent of cursing as swept her in stately dignity
from the room. She would not go near him again.

"Brought up as you ha