The chapel in question was Tell's chapel—ever so far up the lake. A journey in a steam-boat would have been necessary.
"No!" said he, shouting out his refusal at her. "We will not."
"You needn't be angry about it," said she;—as though he could have failed to be stirred by such a proposition at such a time. On another occasion she returned from an evening walk, showing on her face some sign of the exercise she had taken.
"Good G––––! Glencora," said he, "do you mean to kill yourself?"
He wanted her to eat six or seven times a day; and always told her that she was eating too much, remembering some ancient proverb about little and often. He watched her now as closely as Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott had watched her before; and she always knew that he was doing so. She made the matter worse by continually proposing to do things which she knew he would not permit, in order that she might enjoy the fun of seeing his agony and amazement. But this, though it was fun to her at the moment, produced anything but fun, as its general result.
"Upon my word, Alice, I think this will kill me," she said. "I am not to stir out of the house now, unless I go in the carriage, or he is with me."
"It won't last long."
"I don't know what you call long. As for walking with him, it's out of the question. He goes about a mile an hour. And then he makes me look so much like a fool. I had no idea that he would be such an old coddle."
"The coddling will all be given to some one else, very soon."
"No baby could possibly live through it, if you mean that. If there is a baby—"