Thus prepared for the duties of wife, mother, and leader in society, she shone forth upon Bartles.  Her husband, essentially a coarse man, did his utmost, though unconsciously, to stimulate her pride and supply her with incentives to unworthy ambition.  He was rich, and boasted of it vulgarly; he was ignorant, and vaunted the fact, thanking Heaven that for him the purity of religious conviction had never been endangered by the learning that leads astray; be was proud of possessing a young and handsome wife, and for the first time evoked in her a personal vanity.  Day by day was it—­most needlessly—­impressed upon Miriam that she must regard herself as the chief lady in Bartles, and omit no duty appertaining to such a position.  She had an example to set; she was chosen as a support of religion.

Most happily, the man died.  Had he remained her consort for ten years, the story of Miriam’s life would have been one of those that will scarcely bear dwelling upon, too repulsive, too heart-breaking; a few words of bitterness, of ruth, and there were an end of it.  His death was like the removal of a foul burden that polluted her and gradually dragged her down.  Nor was it long before she herself understood it in this way, though dimly and uncertainly.  She found herself looking on things with eyes which somehow had a changed power of vision.  With remarkable abruptness, certain of her habits fell from her, and she remembered them only with distaste, even with disgust.  And one day she said to herself passionately that never would she wed again—­never, never!  She was experiencing for the first time in her life a form of liberty.

Not that her faith had received any shock.  To her undeveloped mind every tenet in which she had been instructed was still valid.  This is the point to note.  Her creed was a habit of the intellect; she held it as she did the knowledge of the motions of the earth.  She had never reflected upon it, for in everything she heard or read this intellectual basis was presupposed.  With doctrinal differences her reasoning faculty was familiar, and with her to think of religion was to think of the points at issue between one church and another—­always, moreover, with pre-judgment in favour of her own.

But the external results of her liberty began to be of importance.  She came into frequent connection with her cousin Eleanor; she saw more than hitherto of the Bradshaws’ family life; she had business transactions; she read newspapers; she progressed slowly towards some practical acquaintance with the world.

Miriam knew the very moment when the thought of making great sacrifices to build a new chapel for Bartles had first entered her mind.  One of her girl friends had just married, and was come to live in the neighbourhood.  The husband, Welland by name, was wealthier and of more social importance than Mr. Baske had been; it soon became evident that Mrs. Welland, who also aspired to prominence in religious life, would be a formidable rival to the lady of Redbeck House.  On the occasion of some local meeting, Miriam felt this danger keenly; she went home in dark mood, and the outcome of her brooding was the resolve in question.