All this disorder fed a malignant pleasure in him. For by now he had
come to hate his fellow men and was embittered against all human
decencies and decorum. For strange to tell he never once in these months
regretted his dear wife whom he had so much loved. No, all that he
grieved for now was his departed vixen. He was haunted all this time not
by the memory of a sweet and gentle woman, but by the recollection of an
animal; a beast it is true that could sit at table and play piquet when
it would, but for all that nothing really but a wild beast. His one hope
now was the recovery of this beast, and of this he dreamed continually.
Likewise both waking and sleeping he was visited by visions of her; her
mask, her full white-tagged brush, white throat, and the thick fur in
her ears all haunted him.

Every one of her foxey ways was now so absolutely precious to him that I
believe that if he had known for certain she was dead, and had thoughts
of marrying a second time, he would never have been happy with a woman.
No, indeed, he would have been more tempted to get himself a tame fox,
and would have counted that as good a marriage as he could make.

Yet this all proceeded one may say from a passion, and a true conjugal
fidelity, that it would be hard to find matched in this world. And
though we may think him a fool, almost a madman, we must, when we look
closer, find much to respect in his extraordinary devotion. How
different indeed was he from those who, if their wives go mad, shut them
in madhouses and give themselves up to concubinage, and nay, what is
more, there are many who extenuate such conduct too. But Mr. Tebrick was
of a very different temper, and though his wife was now nothing but a
hunted beast, cared for no one in the world but her.

But this devouring love ate into him like a consumption, so that by