hand was so unsteady that
she extinguished the light. Where to find the tinder box she knew
not. She felt for a bench, and in the darkness when she had reached
it, sank on it, and burst into tears.

Such was the welcome to her new home.

For some time she sat with as little light in her heart as there
was without.

She felt some relief in giving way to her surcharged heart. She
sobbed and knitted her fingers together, unknitted them, and wove
them together again in convulsions of distress--of despair.

What expectation of happiness had she here? She was accustomed at
the Ship to have everything about her neat and in good order. The
mere look round that she had given to the room, the principal room
of the house she had entered, showed how ramshackle it was. To
some minds it is essential that there should be propriety, as
essential as that the food they consume should be wholesome, the
water they drink should be pure. They can no more accommodate
themselves to disorder than they can to running on hands and feet
like apes.

It was quite true that this house would be given up to Mehetabel
to do with it what she liked. But would her husband care to have
it other than it was? Would he not resent her attempts to alter
everything?

And for what purpose would she strive and toil if he disapproved of
her changes?

She had no confidence that in temper, in character, in mind, he and
she would agree, or agree to differ. She knew that he was grasping
after money, that he commended no man, but had a disparaging word
for every one, and envy of all who were prosperous. She had seen
in him no sign of generosity of feeling, no spark of honor. No
positive evil was said of him; if he were inclined to drink he was
not a drunkard; if he stirred up strife in himself he was not
quarrelsome. He over-reached in a bargain, but never did anything
actually dishonest. He was not credited with any lightness in his
moral conduct towards any village maid. That he was frugal, keen
witted, was about all the good that was said, and that could be
said of him. If he had won no one's love hitherto, was it likely
that there was anything lovable in him? Would he secure the
affections of his wife?

Thoughts rose and fell, tossed and broke in Mehetabel's brain; her
tears fell freely, and as she was alone in the house she was able
to sob without restraint.

Jonas had chained up Tartar, and the dog was howling. The pig
grunted impatiently. A rat rac