English fiction -- 19th century; London (England) -- Fiction; Poor -- Fiction; Poverty -- Fiction
Alone all through the day, and very often in the evening Clem was not
at all disposed to occupy herself in domestic activity. The lodgings
were taken furnished, and a bondmaid of the house did such work as was
indispensable. Dirt and disorder were matters of indifference to the
pair, who represented therein the large class occupying cheap London
lodgings; an impure atmosphere, surroundings more or less squalid,
constant bickering with the landlady, coarse usage of the servant—these
things Clem understood as necessaries of independent life, and it would
have cost her much discomfort had she been required to live in a more
civilised manner. Her ambitions were essentially gross. In the way of
social advancement she appreciated nothing but an increased power of
spending money, and consequently of asserting herself over others. She
had no desire whatever to enter a higher class than that in which she
was born; to be of importance in her familiar circle was the most she
aimed at. In visiting the theatre, she did not so much care to occupy a
superior place—indeed, such a position made her ill at ease—as to
astonish her neighbours in the pit by a lavish style of costume, by
loud remarks implying a free command of cash, by purchase between the
acts of something expensive to eat or drink. Needless to say that she
never read anything but police news; in the fiction of her world she
found no charm, so sluggishly unimaginative was her nature. Till of
late she had either abandoned herself all day long to a brutal
indolence, eating rather too much, and finding quite sufficient
occupation for her slow brain in the thought of how pleasant it was not
to be obliged to work, and occasionally in reviewing the chances that
she might eventually have plenty of money and no Joseph Snowdon as a
restraint upon her; or else, her physical robustness demanding
exercise, she walked considerable distances about the localities she
knew, calling now and then upon an acquaintance.
Till of late; but a change had come upon her life. It was now seldom
that she kept the house all day; when within doors she was restless,
quarrelsome. Joseph became aware with surprise that she no longer tried
to conceal her enmity against him; on a slight provocation she broke
into a fierceness which reminded him of the day when he undeceived her
as to his position, and her look at such times was murderous. It might
come, he imagined, of her being released from the prudent control of
her mother. However, again a few weeks and things were somewhat
improved; she eyed him like a wild beast, but was less frequent in her
outbreaks. Here, too, it might be that Mrs. Peckover’s influence was at
work, for Clara spent at least four evenings of the seven away from
home, and always said she had been at the Close. As indifferent as it
was possible to be, Joseph made no attempt to restrain her
independence; indeed he was glad to have her out of his way.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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