“And about money, mamma?”

“Mr Gazebee must manage it.  In spite of all that your father says, I know that there must be money.  The expense will be much less so than in our present way.”

“And what will papa do himself?”

“I cannot help it, my dear.  No one knows what I have had to bear.  Another year of it would kill me.  His language has become worse and worse, and I fear every day that he is going to strike me with his crutch.”

Under all these circumstances it cannot be said that the de Courcy interests were prospering.

But Lady de Courcy, when she had made up her mind to go to Baden-Baden, had by no means intended to take her youngest daughter with her.  She had endured for years, and now Alexandrina was unable to endure for six months.  Her chief grievance, moreover, was this,—­that her husband was silent.  The mother felt that no woman had a right to complain much of any such sorrow as that.  If her earl had sinned only in that way, she would have been content to have remained by him till the last!

And yet I do not know whether Alexandrina’s life was not quite as hard as that of her mother.  She barely exceeded the truth when she said that he never spoke to her.  The hours with her in her new comfortless house were very long,—­very long and very tedious.  Marriage with her had by no means been the thing that she had expected.  At home, with her mother, there had always been people around her, but they had not always been such as she herself would have chosen for her companions.  She had thought that, when married, she could choose and have those about her who were congenial to her:  but she found that none came to her.  Her sister, who was a wiser woman than she, had begun her married life with a definite idea, and had carried it out; but this poor creature found herself, as it were, stranded.  When once she had conceived it in her heart to feel anger against her husband,—­and she had done so before they had been a week together,—­there was no love to bring her back to him again.  She did not know that it behoved her to look pleased when he entered the room, and to make him at any rate think that his presence gave her happiness.  She became gloomy before she reached her new house, and never laid her gloom aside.  He would have made a struggle for some domestic comfort, had any seemed to be within his reach.  As it was, he struggled for domestic propriety, believing that he might so best bolster up his present lot in life.  But the task became harder and harder to him, and the gloom became denser and more dense.  He did not think of her unhappiness, but of his own; as she did not think of his tedium, but of hers.  “If this be domestic felicity!” he would say to himself, as he sat in his arm-chair, striving to fix his attention upon a book.

“If this be the happiness of married life!” she thought, as she remained listless, without even the pretence of a book, behind her teacups.  In truth she would not walk with him, not caring for such exercise round the pavement of a London square; and he had resolutely determined that she should not run into debt for carriage hire.  He was not a curmudgeon with his money; he was no miser.  But he had found that in marrying an earl’s daughter he had made himself a poor man, and he was resolved that he would not also be an embarrassed man.