The dogma of a rude nature full of secret forces found utterance at length under the scourge of a resentment of very mingled quality. Let half be put to the various forms of disinterested feeling, at least half was due to personal exasperation. The whole change that her life had perforce undergone was an outrage upon the stubbornness of uninstructed habit; the old woman could see nothing but evil omens in a revolution which cost her bodily discomfort and the misery of a mind perplexed amid alien conditions. She was prepared for evil; for months she had brooded over every sign which seemed to foretell its approach; the egoism of the unconscious had made it plain to her that the world must suffer in a state of things which so grievously affected herself. Maternal solicitude kept her restlessly swaying between apprehension for her children and injury in the thought of their estrangement from her. And now at length a bitter shame added itself to her torments. She was shamed in her pride as a mother, shamed before the girl for whom she nourished a deep affection. Emma’s injuries she felt charged upon herself; she would never dare to stand before her again. Her moral code, as much a part of her as the sap of the plant and as little the result of conscious absorption, declared itself on the side of all these rushing impulses; she was borne blindly on an exhaustless flux of words. After vain attempts to make herself heard, Alice turned away and sat sullenly waiting for the outburst to spend itself. Herself comparatively unaffected by the feelings strongest in her mother, this ear-afflicting clamour altogether checked her sympathy, and in a great measure overcame those personal reasons which had made her annoyed with Richard. She found herself taking his side, even knew something of his impatience with Emma and her sorrows. When it came to rebukes and charges against herself her impatience grew active. She stood up again and endeavoured to make herself heard. ‘What’s the good of going on like this, mother? Just because you’re angry, that’s no reason you should call us all the names you can turn your tongue to. It’s over and done with, and there’s an end of it. I don’t know what you mean about disgracing you; I think you might wait till the time comes. I don’t see what I’ve done as you can complain of.’ ‘No, of course you don’t,’ pursued her mother bitterly. ‘It’s the money as prevents you from seeing it. Them as was good enough for you before you haven’t a word to say to now; a man as works honestly for his living you make no account of. Well, well, you must go your own way--’ ‘What is it you want, mother? You don’t expect me to look no higher than when I hadn’t a penny but what I worked for? I’ve no patience with you. You ought to be glad--’