God knows that before she was married she never thought or
dreamt of such a thing; and she remembers that her poor papa used
to say again and again, almost every day of his life, 'Oh, my dear
Louisa, if you only marry a man who understands you, and takes the
trouble to consider your happiness and accommodate himself a very
little to your disposition, what a treasure he will find in you!'
She supposes her papa knew what her disposition was--he had known
her long enough--he ought to have been acquainted with it, but what
can she do? If her home is always dull and lonely, and her husband
is always absent and finds no pleasure in her society, she is
naturally sometimes driven (seldom enough, she is sure) to seek a
little recreation elsewhere; she is not expected to pine and mope
to death, she hopes. 'Then come, Louisa,' says the gentleman,
waking up as suddenly as he fell asleep, 'stop at home this
evening, and so will I.' 'I should be sorry to suppose, Charles,
that you took a pleasure in aggravating me,' replies the lady; 'but
you know as well as I do that I am particularly engaged to Mrs.
Mortimer, and that it would be an act of the grossest rudeness and
ill-breeding, after accepting a seat in her box and preventing her
from inviting anybody else, not to go.' 'Ah! there it is!' says
the gentleman, shrugging his shoulders, 'I knew that perfectly
well.
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