Frederick. It was in this very house they met--in this very house he
slept after that ball where he asked her to marry him. It is not telling
secrets to tell how happy she was. Your grandfather, the old squire,
would have been better pleased had it been some other lady, because of
what was in the blood, but he did not offer to stop it, and they lived
at Abbotsmead after they were married. The house was all new done-up to
welcome her; that octagon parlor was her design. She brought Mr.
Frederick a great fortune, and they loved one another dearly, but it did
not last long. She had a baby, and lost it, and was never quite herself
after. Poor thing! poor thing!"
"And my uncle Laurence's wife," said Bessie, not to dwell on that
tragedy of which she knew the issue.
"Oh! Mr. Laurence's wife!" said Mrs. Betts in a quite changed tone. "I
never pitied a gentleman more. Folks who don't know ladies fancy they
speak and behave pretty always, but that lady would grind her teeth in
her rages, and make us fly before her--him too. She would throw whatever
was in her reach. She was a deal madder and more dangerous in her fits
of passion than poor Mrs. Frederick: she, poor dear! had a delusion that
she was quite destitute and dependent on charity, and when she could get
out she would go to the cottages and beg a bit of bread. A curious
delusion, miss, but it did not distress her, for she called herself one
of God's poor, and was persuaded He would take care of her.
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