“But we won’t talk of that, love - that’s all over: I dare say you meant nothing. But I’m glad you agree with me, that the man who’d tie up his widow not to marry again, is a mean man. It makes me happy that you’ve the confidence in me to say that.
“You never said it?
“That’s nothing to do with it - you’ve just as good as said it. No: when a man leaves all his property to his wife, without binding her hands from marrying again, he shows what a dependence he has upon her love. He proves to all the world what a wife she’s been to him; and how, after his death, he knows she’ll grieve for him. And then, of course, a second marriage never enters her head. But when she only keeps his money so long as she keeps a widow, why, she’s aggravated to take another husband. I’m sure of it; many a poor woman has been driven into wedlock again, only because she was spited into it by her husband’s will. It’s only natural to suppose it. If I thought, Caudle, you could do such a thing, though it would break my heart to do it, - yet, though you were dead and gone, I’d show you I’d a spirit, and marry again directly. Not but what it’s ridiculous my talking in such a way, as I shall go long before you; still, mark my words, and don’t provoke me with any will of that sort, or I’d do it - as I’m a living woman in this bed to-night, I’d do it.”
“I did not contradict her,” says Caudle, “but suffered her to slumber in such assurance.”
LECTURE XXXV - MRS. CAUDLE “HAS BEEN TOLD” THAT CAUDLE HAS “TAKEN TO PLAY” AT BILLIARDS
“Ah, you’re very late to-night, dear.
“It’s not late?
“Well, then, it isn’t, that’s all. Of course, a woman can never tell when it’s late. You were late on Tuesday, too; a little late on the Friday before; on the Wednesday before that - now, you needn’t twist about in that manner; I’m not going to say anything - no; for I see it’s now no use. Once, I own, it used to fret me when you stayed out; but that’s all over: you’ve now brought me to that state, Caudle - and it’s your own fault entirely - that I don’t care whether you ever come home or not. I never thought I could be brought to think so little of you; but you’ve done it: you’ve been treading on the worm for these twenty years, and it’s turned at last.
“Now, I’m not going to quarrel; that’s all over: I don’t feel enough for you to quarrel with, - I don’t, Caudle, as true as I’m in this bed. All I want of you is - any other man would speak to his wife, and not lie there like a log - all I want is this. Just tell me where you were on Tuesday? You were not at dear mother’s, though you know she’s not well, and you know she thinks of leaving the dear children her money; but you never had any feeling for anybody belonging to me. And you were not at your Club: no, I know that. And you were not at any theatre.
“How do I know?