had
argued disregard for Adela's opinion of him. Richard was incapable of
understanding how it struck his wife, that was all. If he reflected on the
matter, no doubt he was very satisfied with himself, feeling that he had
displayed a manly resolution and consistency. But the present difficulty was
grave. Whatever Adela might say, there could be no doubt as to her thought; she
would henceforth - yes, despise him. That cut his thick skin to the quick; his
nature was capable of smarting when thus assailed. For he had by no means lost
his early reverence for Adela; nay, in a sense it had increased. His primitive
ideas on woman had undergone a change since his marriage. Previously he had
considered a wife in the light of property; intellectual or moral independence
he could not attribute to her. But he had learnt that Adela was by no means his
chattel. He still knew diffidence when he was inclined to throw a joke at her,
and could not take her hand without involuntary respect - a sensation which
occasionally irritated him. A dim inkling of what was meant by woman's strength
and purity had crept into his mind; he knew - in his heart he knew - that he was
unworthy to touch her garment. And, to face the whole truth, he all but loved
her; that was the meaning of his mingled sentiments with regard to her. A danger
of losing her in the material sense would have taught him that better than he as
yet knew it; the fear of losing her respect was not attributable solely to his
restless egoism. He had wedded her in quite another frame of mind than that in
which he now found himself when he thought of her. He cared much for the high
opinion of people in general; Adela was all but indispensable to him. When he
said, »My wife,« he must have been half-conscious that the word bore a
significance different from that he had contemplated. On the lips of those among
whom he had grown up the word is desecrated, or for the most part so; it has
contemptible, and ridiculous, and vile associations, scarcely ever its true
meaning. Formerly he would have laughed at the thought of standing in awe of his
wife; nay, he could not have conceived the possibility of such a thing; it would
have appeared unnatural, incompatible with the facts of wedded life. Yet he sat
here and almost dreaded to enter her presence.
    A man of more culture might have thought: A woman cannot in her heart be
revolted because another has been cast off