The History of Miss Betsy Thoughtless

by Eliza Fowler Haywood

'I am the best judge of that,' replied he, a little disdainfully; 'and also, that it is owing to your own want of management that my table is so ill supplied. I would wish you, therefore, to contrive better for the future; as you may depend upon it that, unless my affairs take a better turn, I shall not be persuaded to make any addition to my domestick expences.'

'I could wish then, Sir,' cried she, with a little more warmth, 'that henceforth you would be your own purveyor; for I confess myself utterly unable to maintain a family like ours on the niggard stipend you have allotted for that purpose.'

'No, really, Madam,' answered he, very churlishly, 'I did not marry in order to make myself acquainted with how the markets go, and become learned in the prices of beef and mutton. I always looked on that as the province of a wife; it is enough for me to discharge all reasonable demands on that score: and, since you provoke me to it, I must tell you, Madam,' continued he, 'that what my table wants of being compleat, is robbed from it by the idle superfluities you women are so fond of, and with which, I think, I ought to have no manner of concern.'

As she was not able to comprehend the meaning of these words, she was extremely astonished at them; and, in a pretty hasty manner, demanded a detail of those superfluities he accused her of: on which, throwing himself back in his chair, and looking on her with the most careless and indifferent air he could assume, he replied in these terms.

'I know not,' said he, 'what fool it was that first introduced the article of pin-money into marriage-writings. Nothing, certainly, is more idle; since a woman ought to have nothing apart from her husband; but, as it is grown into a custom, and I have condescended to comply with it, you should, I think, of your own accord, and without giving me the trouble of reminding you of it, convert some part of it, at least, to such uses as might ease me of a burden I have, indeed, no kind of reason to be loaded with. As, for example,' continued he, 'coffee, tea, chocolate, with all the appendages belonging to them, have no business to be enrolled in the list of housekeeping expences, and consequently not to be taken out of what I allow you for that purpose.'

Here he gave over speaking; but the consternation his wife was in preventing her from making any immediate answer, he resumed his discourse. 'Since we are upon this topick, my dear,' said he, 'it will be the best to tell you at once what I expect from you—it is but one thing more—which is this. You have a man entirely to yourself; I am willing he should eat with the family; but as to his livery and wages, I think it highly reasonable you should be at the charge of.'

The innate rage which, during the whole time he had been talking, swelled her breast to almost bursting, would now no longer be confined. 'Good Heavens!' cried she, 'to what have I reduced myself!—Is this to be a wife!—Is this the state of wedlock!—Call it rather an Egyptian bondage!—The cruel task-masters of the Israelites could exact no more. Ungrateful man! pursued she, bursting into tears, 'is this the love, the tenderness, you vowed?'

Overwhelmed with passion, she was capable of uttering no more; but continued walking about the room in a disordered motion, and all the tokens of the most outrageous grief and anger. He sat silent for some time; but, at last, looking somewhat more kindly on her than he had done—'Pr'ythee, my dear,' said he, 'don't let me see you give way to emotions so unbecoming of yourself, and so unjust to me. You shall have no occasion to complain of my want of love and tenderness—you know what my expectations are; and when once I have gained my point, you may be sure, for my own sake, I shall do every thing suitable to it. I would only have you behave with a little prudence for the present.'

In concluding these words, he rose and took hold of her hand; but approached her with an air so cold and indifferent, as was far from atoning, with a woman of her penetration, for the unkindness of his late proposal. 'No, Mr. Munden!' cried she, haughtily turning from him, 'do not imagine I am so weak as to expect, after what you have said, any thing but ill-usage.'

'I have said nothing that I have cause to repent of,' answered he; 'and hope that, when this heat is over, you will do me the justice to think so too. I leave you to consider it, and bring yourself into a better humour against my return.' He added no more; but took his hat and sword, and went out of the room.