been so irritable as he was now, in all his life long; he felt inclined to give a short abrupt answer, more like a bark than a speech, to every one that asked him a question; and this consciousness hurt his pride: he had always piqued himself on his self-control, and control himself he would. So the manner was subdued to a quiet deliberation, but the matter was even harder and sterner than common. He was more than usually silent at home; employing his evenings in a continual pace backwards and forwards, which would have annoyed his mother exceedingly if it had been practised by any one else; and did not tend to promote any forbearance on her part even to this beloved son.
"Can you stop—can you sit down for a moment? I have something to say to you, if you would give up that everlasting walk, walk, walk."
He sat down instantly, on a chair against the wall.
"I want to speak to you about Betsy. She says she must leave us; that her lover's death has so affected her spirits she can't give her heart to her work."
"Very well. I suppose other cooks are to be met with."
"That's so like a man. It's not merely the cooking, it is that she knows all the ways of the house. Besides, she tells me something about your friend Miss Hale."
Miss Hale is no friend of mine. Mr. Hale is my friend."
"I am glad to hear you say so, for if she had been your friend, what Betsy says would have annoyed you."
