Griffith Gaunt; or, Jealousy: Volumes 1 to 3 (of 3)Reade, Charles
General
Griffith Gaunt; or, Jealousy: Volumes 1 to 3 (of 3)
Reade, Charles
Bigamy -- Fiction; English fiction -- 19th century
If to strike an adversary dumb is the tongue's triumph, Mrs. Gaunt was
victorious: for Griffith gasped, but did not reply.
They faced each other, pale with fury; but no more words.
No: an ominous silence succeeded this lamentable answer, like the
silence that follows a thunder-clap.
Griffith stood still awhile, benumbed as it were, by the cruel stroke;
then cast one speaking look of anguish and reproach upon her, drew
himself haughtily up, and stalked away like a wounded lion.
Well said the ancients that anger is a short madness. When we reflect
in cold blood on the things we have said in hot, how impossible they
seem! how out of character with our real selves! And this is one of the
recognized symptoms of mania.
There were few persons could compare with Mrs. Gaunt in native
magnanimity; yet how ungenerous a stab had she given.
And had he gone on, she would have gone on; but when he turned silent
at her bitter thrust, and stalked away from her, she came to herself
almost directly.
She thought, "Good God! what have I said to him?"
And the flush of shame came to her cheek, and her eyes filled with
tears.
He saw them not; he had gone away, wounded to the heart.
You see it was true. The house was hers; tied up as tight as wax. The
very money (his own money) that had been spent on the place, had become
hers by being expended on real property; he could not reclaim it; he
was her lodger; a dependant on her bounty.
During all the years they had lived together she had never once assumed
the proprietor. On the contrary, she put him forward as the Squire, and
slipped quietly into the background. Bene latuit. But, lo! let a hand
be put out to offend her saintly favourite, and that moment she could
waken her husband from his dream, and put him down into his true legal
position with a word. The matrimonial throne for him till he resisted
her priest; and then, a stool at her feet, and his.
He was enraged as well as hurt; but being a true lover, his fury was
levelled not at the woman who had hurt him, but at the man who stood
out of sight and set her on.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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