“Oh, Lady Bassett, what a life! It is a wonder it has not killed us both.”
“It will kill one of us.”
“Not if I can help it.”
“God bless you for saying so! Dear madam, sit by me, and let me hold the hand I might have had years ago, if I had had the courage.”
“Why should you take the blame?” said Mrs. Bassett. “We have both been good wives: too obedient, perhaps. But to have to choose between a husband's commands and God's law, that is a terrible thing for any poor woman.”
“It is, indeed.”
Then there was another silence, and an awkward pause. Mrs. Bassett broke it, with some hesitation. “I hope, Lady Bassett, your present illness is not in any way—I hope you do not fear anything more from my husband?”
“Oh, Mrs. Bassett! how can I help fearing it—especially if we provoke him? Mr. Reginald Bassett has returned, and you know he once gave your husband cause for just resentment.”
“Well, but he is older now, and has more sense. Even if he should, Ruperta and I must try and keep the peace.”
“Ruperta! I wish I had asked you to bring her with you. But I feared to ask too much at once.”