Sophia Rushmere was a petty tyrant. Martha Wood, though less cold and calculating than her mistress, knew how to rule over her, and make her a tool and a slave. The pair were well worthy of each other.
Mrs. Rushmere, though simple and natural as a child, had read Sophia's character at a glance. She looked in that dubious face, and felt that it was false. She listened to that low, soft studied voice, and was convinced that the owner could speak in far other and less musical tones, and she wondered how Gilbert could have taken this artificial woman in preference to her Dorothy, and the good mother pitied him from her very heart.
Mrs. Rowly, though sharp and angular, with a ridiculous assumption of consequence, was not so disagreeable as her daughter. She looked like a person who could speak her mind, and that in the coarsest and most decided manner, and carry her point against overwhelming odds, by sheer pretence and impudence, but she could not conceal, like Sophia, her real disposition. If she betrayed like Judas for money, it would not be with a kiss.
"What do you think of my poor Gilbert's wife?" said Mrs. Rushmere to Dorothy, that afternoon, as the latter sat beside her bed.
"Don't ask me, dear mother. I have no opinion to give."
"He is an unhappy man, Dorothy, as all men deserve to be, who sell themselves for money. He had better ha' died in yon battle, than tied himself to that woman."
Dorothy thought so too, but she gave no expression to her thoughts. She merely remarked, "that the marriage might turn out better than Mrs. Rushmere expected."
The meeting between Dorothy and her lover had been less painful than she had anticipated. She no longer regretted the separation which had occasioned her so much anguish, but fervently thanked God that his providence had so ordered it, and she knew from the deep sense of gratitude that overflowed her heart, that it was for the best; that Gilbert Rushmere, though greatly improved in his appearance and manners, was not the man to make her happy.
The enlargement of her own mind, and the society of intelligent people, had made her crave for something higher and better, mentally and morally, than he could ever bestow. She entertained for him much of the old sisterly affection which she felt for him when they were boy and girl, but nothing beyond.
She did not like his wife, but excused the hostility of her manner towards herself. If she had been made aware of the relation which once existed between her and Gilbert, she thought it perfectly natural. Placed in the same situation as Mrs. Gilbert, she might feel a little jealous of an old love too. In this opinion, Dorothy greatly underrated the high sense of moral rectitude which actuated her general conduct. Under the greatest provocation she would have despised herself for wantonly wounding the feelings of another.