She would
not allow that she was ill; she, no doubt, thought that there was
nothing serious the matter with her; nothing, as she told everybody, but
the vexing after Verner's Pride.
Dr. West had expressed an opinion that her irritability, which she could
neither conceal nor check, was the result of her state of health. He was
very likely right. One thing was certain; that since she grew weaker and
worse, this unhappy frame of mind had greatly increased. The whole
business of her life appeared to be to grumble, to be cross, snappish,
fretful. If her body was diseased, most decidedly her temper was also.
The great grievance of quitting Verner's Pride she made a plea for the
indulgence of every complaint under the sun. She could no longer gather
a gay crowd of visitors around her; she had lost the opportunity with
Verner's Pride; she could no longer indulge in unlimited orders for new
dresses and bonnets, and other charming adjuncts to the toilette,
without reference to how they were to be paid for; she had not a dozen
servants at her beck and call; and if she wanted to pay a visit, there
was no elegant equipage, the admiration of all beholders, to convey her.
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