herself; she felt that her whole life had been devoted to him; and yet, had her object been accomplished? was he happy? and the answer seemed to come, cold and distinct on her ear—No!
Mrs. Courtenaye had never forgiven her husband the deception, or rather the thoughtlessness, that marked his conduct towards her. From the moment that she became aware of her real position, a feeling of mingled dislike and coldness arose, which no kindness, not even submission, on his part, ever softened again. She was at once humiliated and embittered; but the warm heart, and the strong mind, must have an object; and her energies, equally with her affections, had concentrated themselves on her son.
In urging his marriage with Constance, she had been actuated, quite as much by consideration for him, as for herself; but now it appeared to her only selfishness; she had urged him on her own account. Of an unyielding and severe nature herself, she had exaggerated Lord Norbourne's determination,
