But I fancied she did not read, but pursued her
own dark ruminations, for I observed that the open book might often lie for
half an hour or more under her eyes and yet the leaf never turned.
I should have been glad to be assured that she prayed when on her knees, or
read when that book was before her; I should have felt that she was more
canny and human. As it was, those external pieties made a suspicion of a
hollow contrast with realities that helped to scare me; yet it was but a
suspicion--I could not be certain.
Our rector and the curate, with whom she was very gracious, and anxious
about my collects and catechism, had an exalted opinion of her. In public
places her affection for me was always demonstrative.
In like manner she contrived conferences with my father. She was always
making excuses to consult him about my reading, and to confide in him her
sufferings, as I learned, from my contumacy and temper. The fact is, I was
altogether quiet and submissive. But I think she had a wish to reduce me
to a state of the most abject bondage. She had designs of domination and
subversion regarding the entire household, I now believe, worthy of the
evil spirit I sometimes fancied her.
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