’But you have said such hard things!  How are we to stay?  You speak of Felix as though he were all bad.’  She looked at him hoping to get from him some contradiction of this, some retractation, some kindly word; but it was what he did think, and he had nothing to say.  She could bear much.  She was not delicate as to censure implied, or even expressed.  She had endured rough usage before, and was prepared to endure more.  Had he found fault with herself, or with Henrietta, she would have put up with it, for the sake of benefits to come,—­would have forgiven it the more easily because perhaps it might not have been deserved.  But for her son she was prepared to fight.  If she did not defend him, who would...