My mother was another exception. She might be firm, and must be, but only in bearing their firmness, and firmly believing there was no other firmness upon earth.

“It’s very hard,” said my mother, “that in my own house —”

“My own house?” repeated Mr. Murdstone. “Clara!”

“Our own house, I mean,” faltered my mother, evidently frightened—“I hope you must know what I mean, Edward—it’s very hard that in your own house I may not have a word to say about domestic matters. I am sure I managed very well before we were married. There’s evidence,” said my mother sobbing, “ask Peggotty if I didn’t do very well when I wasn’t interfered with!”

“Edward,” said Miss Murdstone, “let there be an end of this. I go tomorrow.”

“Jane Murdstone,” said her brother, “be silent! How dare you to insinuate that you don’t know my character better than your words imply?”

“I am sure,” my poor mother went on at a grievous disadvantage, and with many tears, “I don’t want anybody to go. I should be very miserable and unhappy if anybody was to go. I don’t ask much. I am not unreasonable. I only want to be consulted sometimes. I am very much obliged to anybody who assists me, and I only want to be consulted as a mere form, sometimes. I thought you were pleased, once, with my being a little inexperienced and girlish, Edward—I am sure you said so—but you seem to hate me for it now, you are so severe.”

“Edward,” said Miss Murdstone, again, “let there be an end of this. I go tomorrow.”

“Jane Murdstone,” thundered Mr. Murdstone. “Will you be silent? How dare you?”

Miss Murdstone made a jail-delivery of her pocket-handkerchief, and held it before her eyes.

“Clara,” he continued, looking at my mother, “you surprise me! You astound met Yes, I had a satisfaction in the thought of marrying an inexperienced and artless person, and forming her character, and infusing into it some amount of that firmness and decision of which it stood in need. But when Jane Murdstone is kind enough to come to my assistance in this endeavour, and to. assume, for my sake, a condition something like a housekeeper‘s, and when she meets with a base return —”

“Oh, pray, pray, Edward,” cried my mother, “don’t accuse me of being ungrateful. I am sure I am not ungrateful. No one ever said I was before. I have many faults, but not that. Oh, don‘t, my dear!”

“When Jane Murdstone meets, I say,” he went on, after waiting until my mother was silent, “with a base return, that feeling of mine is chilled and altered.”

“Don‘t, my love, say that!” implored my mother very piteously. “Oh, don’t Edward! I can’t bear to hear it. What ever I am, I am affectionate. I know I am affectionate. I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t certain that I am. Ask Peggotty. I am sure she’ll tell you I’m affectionate.”

“There is no extent of mere weakness, Clara,” said Mr. Murdstone in reply, “that can have the least weight with me. You lose breath.”

“Pray let us be friends,” said my mother, “I couldn’t live under coldness or unkindness.