“I didn’t know things were like this.”
“Of course you didn’t!” said Bertha, scornfully. “Because I smiled and hid my sorrow, you thought I was happy. When I look back on the wretchedness I’ve gone through, I wonder that I can ever have borne it.”
“I can’t believe that this is very serious. You’ll be of a different mind to-morrow, and wonder that such things ever entered your head. You mustn’t mind an old chap like me telling you that you’re very headstrong and impulsive. After all, Edward is a fine fellow, and I can’t believe that he would willingly hurt your feelings.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake don’t give me more of Edward’s praises.”
“I wonder if you’re a little jealous of the way he’s got on?” asked the doctor, looking at her sharply.
Bertha blushed, for she had asked herself the same question, and much scorn was needed to refute it.
“I? My dear doctor, you forget! Oh, don’t you understand that it isn’t a passing whim? It’s dreadfully serious to me—I’ve borne the misery till I can bear it no longer. You must help me to get away. If you have any of your old affection for me, do what you can. I want to go away; but I don’t want to have any more rows with Edward; I just want to leave him quietly. It’s no good trying to make him understand that we’re incompatible. He thinks that it’s enough for my happiness just to be his wife. He’s of iron, and I am pitifully weak.... I used to think myself so strong!”
“Am I to take it that you’re absolutely serious? Do you want to take the extreme step of separating from your husband?”
“It’s an extreme step that I’ve taken before. Last time I went with a flourish of trumpets, but now I want to go without any fuss at all. I still loved Edward then, but I have even ceased to hate him. Oh, I knew I was a fool to come back, but I couldn’t help it. He asked me to return, and I did.”
“Well, I don’t know what I can do for you. I can’t help thinking that if you wait a little things will get better.”