“Did Father tell you so?”
“Yes, he said it covered the loss he made. Now you will have a small income, Mother. Will it begin soon?”
“It began at once. The cottages were a gift. Father went the next morning and drew February’s rents.”
“How much did they amount to, Mother?”
“I do not know, Milly. He never told me. He has drawn them now for five months, but I have never seen a farthing of the money. I have felt sometimes, as if it would be pleasant—just to see it, and have it in my hands,” and the tears welled slowly into her soft brown eyes.
“But I do not understand,” I continued. “Father would not touch my money, yet he takes all of yours without leave or license. What does it mean?”
“It means that I am a wife. All I had, or might have, became your father’s as soon as I was his wife. You are yet a spinster, and have some rights in your own earnings.”
“But suppose you have no legal rights, all the more Father ought to give your every right. It is unkind, unjust, utterly contemptible!” I cried in something of a passion. “I am ashamed of Father!”
“No! No! All men do as he does, and many do a great deal worse. Father has never seen, or heard of wives treated any differently. If he knew better, he would do better.”