Weaker than a Woman — page 228: what you’re looking at

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

WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. Mat Gang offering a man such things as those,” he exclaimed. ‘“ Ring for the brandy !” She dared not refuse—moreover, refusal would have been of no use. She rang the bell*and gave the message, but, before the brandy came, with sweet, womanly tact, she had lured him from the room, hoping that he would forget it. She walked through the long corridors for some minutes, talking to him, then he suddenly remembered Felix, and said nothing would satisfy him unless he left his work and joined them. He went to persuade him, while Lady Chevenix ordered the lamps in the drawing-room to be lighted. The two gentlemen returned together, and they played for some time at cribbage, a game for which Sir Owen had a great liking. Suddenly he remembered the brandy, and asked for it. Lady Chevenix dreaded its coming; she said the evening was warm, and begged of him to take some iced tea instead. He laughed at her. “Listen to her ladyship!” he cried. “Iced tea! The very name of it makes me shudder. I want brandy—noth- ing else.” | She remonstrated again, but very mildly. She felt that she could bear anything better than this, that the man she had forsaken should see in his true colors the man she had married. Those last words proved too much for Sir Owen. He swore roundly at her. What business of hers was it, he asked, if he wanted aseaof brandy. Let her remember herselfi—remember from what position he had taken her, and not attempt to dictate to him; he would not endure it. She tried to soothe and conciliate him; she might as well have tried to soothe a panther. The brandy was brought, but even then he did not re- cover his good humor. Felix was miserable. He longed to put down his cards and say good-night, but he saw the face of Lady Chevenix growing white, and he was afraid to leave her. Miss Hethcote had told him of Sir Owen’s vio- lence. He would not leave her to the mercy of that violent man, yet every moment he remained with them was a tor- ture to him. Sir Owen had no moderation. In vain his wife and Felix engaged him with cards and in conversa- tion. Despite everything he filled and replenished his tumbler. At length the alcohol began to take such an effect _upon him that Lady Chevenix deemed it prudent to rise. “It is growing late,” she said; “we had better put aside the cards,” Eomichboo <S co