Weaker than a Woman — page 207: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

198 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. Mrs. Haye had gone home, pleased at leaving matters a little better than she had found them, but Lady Chevenix had vowed to herself that she would not, if possible, be left alone with her husband again. She found that the presence of a third party made some difference, was some restraint, some check upon him. She invited Miss Hethcote to spend a few weeks with her, and that young laay, who hada girl’s adoration for the beautiful, graceful Lady Chevenix, gladly consented. Marian Hethcote was a bright, pretty, clever girl, and her companionship was very pleasant to the Lady of Garswood. They spent the greater part of the time together during the first few days of her stay. Sir Owen was most gracious to her. Then, as was usual with him, familiarity bred contempt. Miss Hethcote herself could not endure him. When her father remonstrated with her one day about her openly expressed dislike of the baronet, she said : “IT could never like a man who swears at his wife, papa, and Sir Owen very seldom speaks to Lady Chevenix with- out doing so. A man who swears at his wife will do any- thing.” | Her dislike to him was not unjustified. She was sitting one morning with Lady Chevenix in her boudoir, the room that was like a shrine for the woman who used it. They were talking gayly and happily enough, when in the dis- tance they heard the voice of Sir Owen speaking in most angry tones. The sound drew nearer and nearer. “He is coming here,” said Marian Hethcote, and the two ladies looked at each other in distress. The door was opened with violence, and Sir Owen strode into the room, his face purple with rage. He did not speak to Miss Hethcote, but looked at his wife. ‘Where is my silver-mounted riding-whip ?” he asked. “I do not know, Owen,” she replied. “You do know. You had it last, and now it is gone; no one can find it. The grooms say you had it last week.” ‘“T do not remember having had it,” she replied, gently. But the gentle words did not touch him. His temper was, as he expressed it, ‘all in a blaze,” and when that was the case he spared neither man, woman, nor child. Miss Hethcote shrank back, startled and scared at the insults ~ and abuse he lavished upon his wife. Lady Chevenix stood quite calm and still. When the angry oaths had ceased, she looked up at him. “T will go and try to find it, Owen,” she said. “Iam — sorry if I have annoyed you by misplacing it,” ‘comicbooks.com