He seldom visited his wife, and seemed to care little what she did or with whom she might choose to associate.
He had introduced her to all kinds of persons, and she had formed, perhaps, exceptionable acquaintance.
But of this he cared nothing, so that she troubled him little for money, he was indifferent as to her associates and hours of leaving or returning home.
His wife, it must be confessed, was equally indifferent in her feelings towards her liege lord.
He had inaugurated habits of card and wine parties and very late hours and scenes of debauchery at her home, and as she was thrown into indifferent company—as she was expected and almost compelled to do the honours of the house and table to whomsoever visited her husband—it cannot be expected that the gaily-inclined Fanny was proof against the many temptations to which she was almost continually exposed.
She was, in truth, the gay, gambling wife of a gay, gambling, debauched and conscienceless husband.
No matter what others might think, it is recorded in the interesting “Chronicle,” that Charley and his young wife were extremely happy, nay, supremely so, and often confessed to each other, when sitting in the portico of their new and elegant house, that Providence had been very good and kind to them, and that their cup of happiness was full to the brim.
With a chip sun-bonnet in her hand, and leaning on Charles’s arm, Clara would go forth, all happiness, for an evening walk, and as they strolled in the green fields, or gazed upon the numerous snow-white sails moving to and fro on the bright splashing waters of the Thames, Clara would often laughingly recount how she first felt a partiality for the husband she then so highly prized and almost adored.
While Charley, full of humour and nonsense, would joke so wittingly and merrily until Clara become crimson in face, and shook her mass of raven curls with bewitching innocence and coquetry.