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'I descended - as I might have known I should, but that he fascinated me with his boyish courtship - into a doll, a trifle for the occupation of an idle hour, to be dropped, and taken up, and trifled with, as the inconstant humour took him. When he grew weary, I grew weary. As his fancy died out, I would no more have tried to strengthen any power I had, than I would have married him on his being forced to take me for his wife. We fell away from one another without a word. Perhaps you saw it, and were not sorry. Since then, I have been a mere disfigured piece of furniture between you both; having no eyes, no ears, no feelings, no remembrances. Moan? Moan for what you made him; not for your love. I tell you that the time was,
when I loved him better than you ever did!' ¡¡¡¡She stood with her bright angry eyes confronting the wide stare, and the set face; and softened no more, when the moaning was repeated, than if the face had been a picture. ¡¡¡¡'Miss Dartle,' said I, 'if you can be so obdurate as not to feel for this afflicted mother -' ¡¡¡¡'Who feels for me?' she sharply retorted. 'She has sown this. Let her moan for the harvest that she reaps today!'