Great Britain -- History, Naval -- 19th century -- Fiction; Napoleonic Wars, 1800-1815 -- Fiction
smartness and vivacity, the more so as she had a talent for repartee,
which men like to find in a very pretty woman.
In a short time my mother became quite the rage, and it was a mystery
how so pretty and elegant a person could have become the wife of a
private marine. It was however, ascribed to her having been captivated
with the very handsome person and figure of her husband, and having
yielded to her feelings in a moment of infatuation. The ladies
patronised her circulating library; the officers and gentlemen purchased
her stationery. My mother then added gloves, perfumery, canes, and
lastly cigars, to her previous assortment and before she had been a year
in business, found that she was making money very fast, and increasing
her customers every day. My mother had a great deal of tact; with the
other sex she was full of merriment and fond of joking, consequently a
great favourite; towards her own sex her conduct was quite the reverse;
she assumed a respectful, prudish air, blended with a familiarity which
was never offensive; she was, therefore, equally popular with her own
sex, and prospered in every sense of the word. Had her husband been the
least inclined to have asserted his rights, the position which she had
gained was sufficient to her reducing him to a state of subjection. She
had raised herself, unaided, far above him; he saw her continually
chatting and laughing with his own officers, to whom he was compelled to
make a respectful salute whenever they passed by him; he could not
venture to address her, or even to come into the shop, when his officers
were there, or it would have been considered disrespectful towards them;
and as he could not sleep out of barracks, all his intercourse with her
was to occasionally slink down by the area, to find something better to
eat than he could have in his own mess, or obtain from her an occasional
shilling to spend in beer. Ben, the marine, found at last that somehow
or another, his wife had slipped out of his hands; that he was nothing
more than a pensioner on her bounty a slave to her wishes, and a fetcher
and carrier at her command, and he resigned himself quietly to his fate,
as better men have done before.
CHAPTER THREE.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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