"
"O, ho!" said her husband, "you are for a battle now. Harry, you don't
know her. If she lets loose that scurrilous tongue of hers I have
no chance; upon my soul, I'd encounter another half dozen of
thunder-storms, and as many showers of blood, sooner than come under it
for ten minutes; a West India hurricane is a zephyr to it."
"Ah, God help the unhappy woman that's blistered for life with an
ignorant sot!--such a woman is to be pitied.--and such a woman am I;--I,
you good-for-nothing drunken booby, who made you what you are."
"O, fie! mamma," said Maria, "this is too bad to papa, who, you know,
seldom replies to you at all."
"Miss Lindsay, I shall suffer none of your impertinence," said her
mother; "leave the room, madam, this moment--how dare you? but I am not
surprised at it;--leave the room, I say."
The poor, amiable girl, who was all fearfulness and affection, quietly
left the room as she was desired, and her father, who saw that his
worthy wife was brimful of a coming squall, put on his hat, and after
having given one of his usual sardonic looks, left the apartment also.
Pages:
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159