She had the use of a luxurious carriage; she had servants to wait upon her, hand and foot.
He tempted her through her love of the beautiful; he surrounded her with everything that was most graceful and choice; he cultivated her taste, and he spoke highly of her appreciation.
He tempted her through the innate refinement that had always distinguished her—he ministered to her in every possible way. He spoke always with the greatest contempt of poverty, of all approaches to vulgarity, and he spoke with the most condescending pity of those whose position in life was inferior to his own.
Day by day Aveline loved her new life more and more; it was so pleasant to wander in those splendid grounds, under the shade of the ancestral trees; it was so pleasant to live in those delightful rooms, with their thick, soft carpets, their superb furniture, those rare pictures and the profusion of flowers—to have carriages, horses, jewels, dresses, every luxury that imagination could devise.
It was so pleasant always to have a purse full of money, to know that she had never to trouble about ways and means, to have respect, homage, flattery shown to her.
She thought with a shudder of the little cottage at Wood Green; she contrasted her husband, in his working clothes, with the polished gentlemen she saw around her.
She was weak of soul, weak of purpose, weak of heart, weak of will. The past, with its poverty and privations, became hateful to her. She loved the present, she dreaded the thought of returning to her humble home, of giving up her jewels, of growing again accustomed to an obscure life. How she would miss the grandeur, the luxury, the magnificence of Broxbridge Hall!
Yet she loved Tom, loved him as dearly and deeply as her light nature would allow her to love. There were nights when her pillow was wet with tears, when she sobbed as though her heart would break, but with the morning sunshine these thoughts would be scattered and dispelled.
She never forgot her husband. There was hardly an hour in which her heart did not turn to dear Tom, but she was vain, fond of luxury, easily persuaded, and the love of self, the love of wealth and magnificence, was stronger than her love for him.
Then, when Lord Ethalwood thought the love of present surroundings had taken deep root, he again addressed her in reference to the all-important subject.